Death in Silhouette. John Russell Fearn

on which way the rope fibres point.”

      Pat frowned. “The rope fibres? What have they got to do with it?”

      “That rope,” Maria said deliberately, beginning to enjoy herself, “will now be in the hands of micro-analysts in the forensic laboratory. It will be microscopically examined. The rope will show if the weight was thrown on it suddenly—as in a genuine suicide—or if Keith was murdered and then hanged. The difference is between what is technically called ‘slow strain’ and ‘two-way pull’.”

      “Oh!” Pat grimaced. “That’s rather horrible!”

      “Horrible? Not at all. Perfectly normal forensic technique. But tell me, Pat, surely you don’t think your fiancé was murdered? Who would want to do such a thing to him?”

      “I’ve no idea.” Pat shook her head gloomily. “It’s simply that I can’t think he’d want to commit suicide, therefore the only answer is murder. I don’t know why, or who, or anything about it. In fact, nobody at the party could have done it because none of us left the room until it was found Keith had vanished.”

      For a space Maria reflected, then she shook her head slowly.

      “I think you’d better try and keep your imagination in check, Pat,” she advised. “You must be mistaken. I think the truth is that you can’t believe the facts.… In any case, if you have come here to ask me to do something, I just can’t— not until I have all the details. The best thing I can do is attend the inquest and then let you know what I think.”

      “Yes,” Pat agreed listlessly, rising and returning the chair to its position beside the wall. “I suppose that would be best. I’m sorry I bothered you at this hour, Miss Black.”

      Maria’s only response was an indulgent smile. She sat pondering for quite a time after the girl had left.