"Why should any-one in Steynholme want to kill a great actress like Adelaide Melhuish ?" Now, the name of the dead woman was literally the last thing Grant expected to hear from this girl's lips, and the astounding fact momentarily banished all other worries.
"You knew her ?" he gasped.
"No, not exactly.

But I couldn't avoid recognizing her when she asked for her letters, and sent a telegram." "But--" "Oh, Robinson told me she was dead.

I see now what is puzzling you." "It is not quite that.

I mean, why didn't you tell me she was in Steynholme?
Has she been staying here any length of time ?" The girl's pretty face crimsoned, and then grew pale.
"I--had no idea--she was--a friend of yours, Mr.Grant," she stammered.
"She used to be a friend, but I have not set eyes on her during the past three years--until last night." "Last night!" "After you had gone home.

I was doing some work, and, having occasion to consult a book, lighted a candle, and put it in the small window near the bookcase.