h the _Argus_ special.

CHAPTER VI

THE TAXI-CAB DRIVER

Mr. Tertius bought a copy of the newspaper, and standing aside on the
pavement, read with much interest and surprise the story which
Triffitt's keen appetite for news and ready craftsmanship in writing had
so quickly put together. Happening to glance up from the paper in the
course of his reading, he observed that several other people were
similarly employed. The truth was that Triffitt had headed his column:
"MYSTERIOUS DEATH OF MR. HERAPATH, M.P. IS IT SUICIDE OR MURDER?"--and
as this also appeared in great staring letters on the contents bills
which the newsboys were carrying about with them, and as Herapath had
been well known in that district, there was a vast amount of interest
aroused thereabouts by the news. Indeed, people were beginning to
chatter on the sidewalks, and at the doors of the shops. And as Mr.
Tertius turned away in the direction of Portman Square, he heard one
excited bystander express a candid opinion.

"Suicide?" exclaimed this man, thrusting his paper into the hands of a
companion. "Not much! Catch old Jacob Herapath at that game--he was a
deuced deal too fond of life and money! Murder, sir--murder!--that's the
ticket--murder!"

Mr. Tertius went slowly homeward, head bent and eyes moody. He let
himself into the house; at the sound of his step in the hall Peggie
Wynne looked out of the study. She retreated into it at sight of Mr.
Tertius, and he followed her and closed the door. Looking narrowly at
her, he saw that the girl had been shedding tears, and he laid his hand
shyly yet sympathetically on her arm. "Yes," he said quietly, "I've been
feeling like that ever since--since I heard about things. But I don't
know--I suppose we shall feel it more when--when we realize it more, eh?
Just now there's the other thing to think about, isn't there?"

Peggie mopped her eyes and looked at him. He was such a quiet,
unobtrusive, inoffensive old gentleman that she wondered more than ever
why Barthorpe had refused to admit him to the informal conference.

"What other thing?" she asked.

Mr. Tertius looked round the room--strangely empty now that Jacob
Herapath's bustling and strenuous presence was no longer in it--and
shook his head.

"There's one thought you mustn't permit yourself to harbour for a moment,
my dear," he answered. "Don't even for a fraction of time allow yourself
to think that my old friend took his own life! That's--