stabbed to the heart She was lying just about where Mrs. Millen is sitting now."
"Mr. Inglis!" Violet rose suddenly.
"There is reason to believe that, from one point of view, the woman was no better than she ought to have been. That is the story."
"But" — I confess it was not at all the story I had expected it was going to be; I did not altogether like it — "who killed her?"
"That is the question. There was no direct evidence to show. No weapon was discovered. The man we had known as Bush had vanished, as it seemed, off the face of the earth. He had not left so much as a pocket-handkerchief behind him. Everything both of his and hers had gone. It turned out that nobody knew anything at all about him. They had no servant. What meals they had on board were sent in from the hotel Hambro had advertised the Sylph. Bush had replied to the advertisement. He had paid the rent in advance, and Hambro had asked no questions."
"And what became of the Sylph?"
"She also vanished. She had become a little too notorious. One doesn't fancy living on board a houseboat on which a murder has been committed; one is at too close quarters. I suppose Hambro sold her for what he could get, and the purchaser painted her, and rechristened her the Water Lily!"
"But are you sure this is the Sylph?"
"As sure as that I am sitting here. It is impossible that I could be mistaken. I still seem to see that woman lying dead just about where Mrs. Millen is standing now."
