ed before the picture in a hesitating,
fascinated way. His feet seemed to pull up before it involuntarily.

"What does it mean?" he muttered. "What in the name of fate has happened?
It is impossible that Merritt could have played me a trick like that; he
would never have dared. Besides, he has too much to gain by following my
instructions. I fancy--"

Henson slipped up to the picture as a sudden idea came to him. If the
picture had not been removed at all the stays would still be intact. And
if they were intact Merritt was likely to have a bad quarter of an hour
later on. It would be proof that--

But the stays were not intact. The heads had been shaved off with some
cutting instrument; the half of the stays gleamed like silver in the
morning light. And yet the Rembrandt was there. The more Henson dwelt
upon it the more he was puzzled. He began to wonder whether some deep
trap was being laid for him.

But, no, he had seen no signs of it. In some way or another Bell had
managed to ingratiate himself with Littimer again, but not necessarily
for long, Henson told himself, with a vicious grin. Nor was Littimer the
kind of man who ever troubled himself to restrain his feelings. If he had
got to the bottom of the whole business he would have had Henson kicked
out of the house without delay.

But Littimer suspected nothing. His greeting just now showed that Bell
suspected nothing, because he had shaken hands in the heartiest manner
possible. And as for Miss Lee, she was no more than a smart Yankee girl,
and absolutely an outsider.

Still, it was dreadfully puzzling. And it was not nice to be puzzled at a
time when the arch-conspirator ought to know every move of the game.
Therefore it became necessary to go into Moreton Wells and see Merritt
without delay. As Henson crossed the hall the cheerful voice of Littimer
hailed him.

"Reginald," he cried, "I want your assistance and advice."

With a muttered curse Henson entered the library. Littimer was seated
at a table, with a cigarette in his mouth, his brows drawn over a mass
of papers.

"Sit down and have a cigar," he said. "The fact is I am setting my
affairs in order--I am going to make a fresh will. If you hadn't come
down last night I should probably have sent for you. Now take my
bank-book and check those figures."

"Shall we be long?" Henson asked, anxiously.

Littimer tartly hoped that Henson could-spare him an hour. It was not
usual, he said, for a testator