Monk smiled with a harsh twist of his lips. "The case may become ugly. I expect the family of the girl to suggest serious flaws in his character in order to explain his behavior in terms other than some fault in their daughter. If Melville is vulnerable in any way he has not told us, or even is not aware of, we need to know it in advance in order to defend him."

Sandeman's face eased, and his large body relaxed in his chair, crumpling his suit still further. "Oh, I see." He did not apologize for his suspicion, it was too subtle to have been voiced, but it was there in his eyes, the suddenly wanner smile.

"Who is the lady?"

Monk did not hesitate; there was nothing to be lost. "Miss Zillah Lambert."

"Indeed?" Sandeman was silent for a moment. "I still cannot help you. I know a little of Barton Lambert. Not a sophisticated man, but on the other hand he is nobody's dupe either. He made his own fortune by hard work and good judgment—and a certain amount of courage. In my limited experience he has not been one to be socially ambitious, nor to take a slight easily."

"And his wife?" Monk said with the shadow of a smile.

Sandeman drew in his breath and there was a flicker in his eyes which expressed possibly more than he was willing to say.

"A very pretty woman. Met her several times. Even dined at their home once." He put his head a trifle to one side, a look of mild surprise on his face. "I confess I had not expected to find it so extraordinarily beautiful. And it was, believe me, Monk. I have dined with some of the wealthiest families in England, and some of the oldest, but for its scale, nothing outdid Lambert's home. It was full of invention... architectural invention, I mean, not scientific. It was brilliantly innovative. That was Killian Melville." He began to smile as he spoke, and his eyes took on a faraway shine as he retreated into memory. "As we went into the hall the floor was red oak, lovely warm color to it, and the walls were in different shades like... like sweet and dry sherry ... no, more like brown sugar. But because of the windows it was full of light. It was one of those rare places where instantly one feels both a warmth and a curious sense of peace. There was a width, a space about it. All the lines pleased the eye. Nothing intruded or was cramped."