not be long, Miss. I think you may be able to clear up a few points that at present I cannot quite understand."
"I'm afraid I cannot help you much," she said, gravely.
"Possibly more than you think, Miss. In the first place I understand that your father had promised your hand in marriage to Mr. Ashton."
Miss Temple favored me with a quick and bitter glance of reproach. I knew that she felt that this information had come from me.
"Yes," she replied, "that is true."
"Did you desire to marry him?"
The girl looked at her father in evident uncertainty.
"I – I – Why should I answer such a question?" She turned to the detective with scornful eyes. "It is purely my own affair, and of no consequence – now."
"That is true, Miss," replied the Sergeant, with deeper gravity. "Still, I do not see that the truth can do anyone any harm."
Miss Temple flushed and hesitated a moment, then turned upon her questioner with a look of anger. "I did not wish to marry Mr. Ashton," she cried. "I would rather have died, than have married him."
McQuade had made her lose her temper, for which I inwardly hated him. His next question left her cold with fear.
"When did you last see Mr. Ashton alive?" he demanded.
The girl hesitated, turned suddenly pale, then threw back her head with a look of proud determination. "I refuse to answer that question," she said defiantly.
Her father had been regarding her with amazed surprise. "Muriel," he said, in a trembling voice – "what do you mean? You left Mr. Ashton and myself in the dining-room at a little after nine." She made no reply.
Sergeant McQuade slowly took from his pocket the handkerchief he had found in Mr. Ashton's room, and, handing it to her, said simply: "Is this yours, Miss?"
Miss Temple took it, mechanically.
"Yes," she said.
"It was found beside the murdered man's body," said the detective as he took the handkerchief from her and replaced it in his pocket.
For a moment, I thought Miss Temple was going to faint, and I instinctively moved toward her. She recovered herself at once. "What are you aiming at?" she exclaimed. "Is it possible that you suppose I had anything to do with Mr. Ashton's death?"
"I have not said so, Miss. This handkerchief was found in Mr. Ashton's room. It is possible that he had it himself, that he kept it, as a souvenir of some former meeting, although in that case it would hardly have retained the strong scent of perfume which I notice upon it. But you might have dropped it at table – he may have picked it up that very night. It is for these reasons, Miss, that I asked you when you last saw Mr. Ashton alive, and you refuse to answer me. I desire only the truth, Miss Temple. I have no desire to accuse anyone unjustly. Tell us, if you can, how the handkerchief came in Mr. Ashton's room."
At these words, delivered in an earnest and convincing manner, I saw Miss Temple's face change. She felt that the detective was right, as indeed, did I, and I waited anxiously for her next words.
"I last saw Mr. Ashton," she answered, with a faint blush, "last night about midnight."
Her answer was as much of a surprise to me as it evidently was to both Major Temple and the detective.
"Muriel," exclaimed the former, in horrified tones.
"I went to his room immediately after he retired," continued Miss Temple, with evident effort. "I wished to tell him something – something important – before the morning, when it might have been too late. I was afraid to stand in the hallway and talk to him through the open door for fear I should be seen. I went inside. I must have dropped the handkerchief at that time."
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