ame?"

"May Wenlock."

"So? Do you know, Kenneth, this infernal likeness has put me to very
serious inconvenience, and came within an ace of costing me my life? I
suppose it was you who let out Frank Wenlock."

"Of course it was. But don't give it away."

"No--no. But how did you manage to get here at all to do it without
being spotted?"

"Oh, Adrian De la Rey fixed up all that. Of course I had no notion you
were anywhere around."

"I see," said Colvin, on whom the whole ingenuity of the plot now
flashed. All these witnesses against him were not perjured, then. They
had been genuinely deceived. The other, watching him, had no intention
of giving away his own share, direct or indirect, in the transaction, or
his partnership with Adrian in that other matter. In the course of his
somewhat eventful and very wandering life Kenneth Kershaw had never
found overmuch scruple a paying commodity.

"Well, Kenneth, I'll do what I can for you," went on Colvin, "but I'm
afraid it won't be much. And the feet is I'm just taking on an
`unlimited liability' myself."

"Yes, so I concluded just now, from appearances. Well, Colvin, I
congratulate you heartily."

They talked a little about money matters, and then Kenneth broke out:

"Hang it, Colvin; you are a good chap after all. I had always somehow
figured you as a priggish and cautious and miserly sort, which was the
secret of your luck; but I don't believe there's a man jack on earth who
would have been as splendid and as generous under the circumstances."

Colvin's face softened. "Oh, it's all right, old man. Don't get making
a speech," he said. "I wish I could do more, but, as you see, I can't."

"See! Rather. And now, look here. I believe I am the bearer of some
pretty good news. I didn't tell you at first, because I wanted to see
what sort of chap you were. Not, mind you," he added, somewhat
vehemently, "that I have any interested motive now, not a bit of it.
Well--read that--and that."

Fumbling in his pocket-book, he got out some slips of paper. They were
press cuttings from English newspapers, and bore dates of about six
weeks previously:

"By the death of Sir Charles Kershaw, Bart, of Slatterton Regis,
Dorset, and Terracombe, Devon, which took place suddenly the day
before yesterday, the title and both properties, together with
considerable sums in personalty, devolve upon his next-of-kin, Mr
Colvin Kershaw, at present believed to