"Now look at this." She detached her brooch and laid it on the table. It was a circular gold ornament, carved with the three faces of the Hindoo trinity encircled by a lotus wreath; a handsome, but odd, piece of workmanship.
"An Indian wrist-button," said Mallow, looking at it carefully. "Imitated from Carson's bracelet, no doubt. I suppose it is one of those referred to by Mrs. Purcell."
"No, he did not. It was a wedding present from Margery Drabble; she told me it was her doll's locket. I did not notice it particularly at the time. But on reading Mrs. Purcell's letter again it suddenly dawned upon me that it was one of Carson's wrist-buttons."
"Well, I wrote to Mrs. Drabble about that, and she replied that Margery had taken it from her father's desk on the mine-is-thine principle. Now," said Olive, "what possible connection can there be between Dr. Drabble and my husband?"
Mallow stared at her, astonished at the earnestness with which she spoke. "I am afraid I don't quite follow you," he said at length. "Of course Carson knows Dr. Drabble. He met him at Casterwell."
"That is just the point. Was it for the first time he met him at Casterwell?"
"I--I suppose so; but, so far as I could see, he was never very intimate with the man."
"Then why should he present him with a pair of gold wrist-buttons," said Olive--"especially the pair he wore himself; the pair he had made to match that bracelet?"
"It would be, if it were a fact," said Olive. "But I do not for one moment believe that he gave them to Drabble at all."
"Then how do you suppose Drabble came by them?"
"That," said Olive, "is just where I am at a loss, and where I need your help. That is what we must find out."
"One minute, Mr. Mallow. Am I Mrs. Carson?"
"Well, I presume so. You were married to him," said Mallow, somewhat bewildered.
"I was married to some one, yes; but is that some one Angus Carson?"
"You are not thinking of that absurd story I told you?"
"I am. Not that I think it absurd now. On the contrary, I am coming to believe more in the sense of it each hour."
"No, no," said Mallow. "I made every possible inquiry in London immediately before your marriage. I visited Athelstane Place; I questioned the police. But I could find nothing, absolutely nothing, to connect your husband in ever so remote a degree with that murder. Besides, look at the facts in his favour. Mr. Brock recognized him simply from his resemblance to his father, and his appearance corresponds exactly with the description of him given by Mrs. Purcell, even to the wearing of his bangle."