th; "no one
could talk seriously during a borshch. A beautifully constructed
borshch, such as you are going to experience presently, ought not only to
banish conversation but almost to annihilate thought. Later on, when we
arrive at the second stage of olives, I shall be quite ready to discuss
that new book on Borrow, or, if you prefer it, the present situation in
the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg. But I absolutely decline to talk anything
approaching business till we have finished with the bird."

For the greater part of the meal Egbert sat in an abstracted silence, the
silence of a man whose mind is focussed on one topic. When the coffee
stage had been reached he launched himself suddenly athwart his uncle's
reminiscences of the Court of Luxemburg.

"I think I told you that great-aunt Adelaide had made me her executor.
There wasn't very much to be done in the way of legal matters, but I had
to go through her papers."

"That would be a fairly heavy task in itself. I should imagine there
were reams of family letters."

"Stacks of them, and most of them highly uninteresting. There was one
packet, however, which I thought might repay a careful perusal. It was a
bundle of correspondence from her brother Peter."

"The Canon of tragic memory," said Lulworth.

"Exactly, of tragic memory, as you say; a tragedy that has never been
fathomed."

"Probably the simplest explanation was the correct one," said Sir
Lulworth; "he slipped on the stone staircase and fractured his skull in
falling."

Egbert shook his head. "The medical evidence all went to prove that the
blow on the head was struck by some one coming up behind him. A wound
caused by violent contact with the steps could not possibly have been
inflicted at that angle of the skull. They experimented with a dummy
figure falling in every conceivable position."

"But the motive?" exclaimed Sir Lulworth; "no one had any interest in
doing away with him, and the number of people who destroy Canons of the
Established Church for the mere fun of killing must be extremely limited.
Of course there are individuals of weak mental balance who do that sort
of thing, but they seldom conceal their handiwork; they are more
generally inclined to parade it."

"His cook was under suspicion," said Egbert shortly.

"I know he was," said Sir Lulworth, "simply because he was about the only
person on the premises at the time of the tragedy. But could anything be
sillier than trying