the pallid features of the butler turned a shade paler
still as he listened to his master's question.

"There are only two women in the house, Sir Henry," he answered.
"One is the scullery-maid, who sleeps in the other wing. The
other is my wife, and I can answer for it that the sound could
not have come from her."

And yet he lied as he said it, for it chanced that after
breakfast I met Mrs. Barrymore in the long corridor with the sun
full upon her face. She was a large, impassive, heavy-featured
woman with a stern set expression of mouth. But her tell-tale
eyes were red and glanced at me from between swollen lids. It was
she, then, who wept in the night, and if she did so her husband
must know it. Yet he had taken the obvious risk of discovery in
declaring that it was not so. Why had he done this? And why did
she weep so bitterly? Already round this pale-faced, handsome,
black-bearded man there was gathering an atmosphere of mystery
and of gloom. It was he who had been the first to discover the
body of Sir Charles, and we had only his word for all the
circumstances which led up to the old man's death. Was it
possible that it was Barrymore after all whom we had seen in the
cab in Regent Street? The beard might well have been the same.
The cabman had described a somewhat shorter man, but such an
impression might easily have been erroneous. How could I settle
the point forever? Obviously the first thing to do was to see the
Grimpen postmaster, and find whether the test telegram had really
been placed in Barrymore's own hands. Be the answer what it
might, I should at least have something to report to Sherlock
Holmes.

Sir Henry had numerous papers to examine after breakfast, so that
the time was propitious for my excursion. It was a pleasant walk
of four miles along the edge of the moor, leading me at last to a
small gray hamlet, in which two larger buildings, which proved to
be the inn and the house of Dr. Mortimer, stood high above the
rest. The postmaster, who was also the village grocer, had a
clear recollection of the telegram.

"Certainly, sir," said he, "I had the telegram delivered to Mr.
Barrymore exactly as directed."

"Who delivered it?"

"My boy here. James, you delivered that telegram to Mr. Barrymore
at the Hall last week, did you not?"

"Yes, father, I delivered it."

"Into his own hands?" I asked.

"Well, he was up in the loft at the time, so that I could not put
it into his own hands, but I