th stumbling steps he tried to get round the table. The corner of
it caught his thigh. He lurched sideways and dropped to the floor like a
man shot through the brain.

Garthorne was already kneeling by the sofa on to which he had lifted Sir
Arthur's head and shoulders, and had loosened his tie and collar.

"Poor Vane," he said, looking round. "I'm afraid the excitement of this
morning has been a bit too much for him. If we're going to get them
round in time, perhaps you'd better ring up his scout and send him for a
doctor."

"Yes," said Ernshaw, looking up from where he was kneeling by Vane. "I
suppose that's about the best thing to do, since the crime which you
have committed is unfortunately not one which warrants me in sending for
a policeman as well."

"Crime, sir, what the devil do you mean?" cried Garthorne, springing to
his feet.

"I mean," said Ernshaw slowly and without moving, "exactly what I say. I
feel perfectly certain from what I know of Maxwell that this could not
possibly have occurred unless he had been deliberately tempted to drink.
Your motives, of course, are best known to yourself and to Him who will
judge them."

"So that's it, is it?" said Garthorne, with a harsh laugh. "You think I
made him drunk for some purpose of my own, a man that I've been friends
with ever since we punched each other's heads as boys. Well, you've been
a good chum to Maxwell, so for his sake I'll pass over that idiotic
remark of yours, and tell you for your information that he had been
drinking before I came into the room at all."

"It's a lie!" exclaimed Ernshaw, springing to his feet and going towards
the bell. "Nothing on earth could make me believe that." And then he
rang the bell.

"I'm not accustomed to being called a liar," said Garthorne very
quietly, "without resenting it in practical form; but as you don't seem
to be quite yourself, and as there is so much physical difference in my
favour, I'll take the trouble to convince you that I am speaking the
truth."

He went into the bedroom and brought out Vane's coffee-cup.

"Smell that," he said.

Ernshaw took the cup and raised it to his nose. The strong smell of
brandy rising from the dregs was unmistakable. Then there came a knock
at the door, and Vane's servant came in.

"Oh, good Lord, gentlemen, whatever is the matter?" he exclaimed,
looking at Sir Arthur's prostrate form on the sofa and Vane's on the
floor.

"Never mind about that just now," said