d to end the suspense.

"Caramba!" he broke in. "What is it?"

"It is this. Mr. Hume has asked me to help him in the investigation of
certain--"

The library door swung open, and a lady entered. She was tall, graceful,
distinguished-looking. Her cousinship to Hume was unmistakable. In both
there was the air of aristocratic birth. Their eyes, the contour of their
faces, were alike. But the fresh Anglo-Saxon complexion of the man was
replaced in the woman by a peach-like skin, whilst her hair and eyebrows
were darker.

She was strikingly beautiful. A plain black dress set off a figure that
would have caused a sculptor to dream of chiselled marble.

"A passionate, voluptuous woman," thought Brett. "A woman easily swayed,
but never to be compelled, the ready-made heroine of a tragedy."

Her first expression was one of polite inquiry, but her glance fell upon
Hume. Her face, prone to betray each fleeting emotion, exhibited surprise,
almost consternation.

"You, Davie!" she gasped.

Hume went to meet her.

"Yes, Rita," he said. "I hope you are glad to see me."

Mrs. Capella was profoundly agitated, but she held out her hand and
summoned the quick smile of an actress.

"Of course I am," she cried. "I did not know you were in England. Why did
you not let me know, and why are you here?"

"I only returned home three days ago. My journey to Beechcroft was a hasty
resolve. This is my friend, Mr. Reginald Brett. He was just about to
explain to Mr. Capella the object of our visit when you came in."

Neither husband nor wife looked at the other. Mrs. Capella was flustered,
indulging in desperate surmises, but she laughed readily enough.

"I heard a noise in this room, and then the bell rang. I thought something
had happened. You know--I mean, I thought there was no one here."

"I fear that I am the culprit, Mrs. Capella. Your husband was good enough
to invite us to enter by the window, and I promptly disturbed the
household."

Brett's pleasant tones came as a relief. Capella glared at him now with
undisguised hostility, for the barrister's adroit ruse had outwitted him
by bringing the lady from the drawing-room, which gave on to the garden
and lawn at the back of the house.

"Please do not take the blame of my intrusion, Mr. Brett," said Margaret,
with forced composure. "You will stay for luncheon, will you not? And you,
Davie? Are you at Mrs. Eastham's?"

Her concluding question was eager, almost wistful. Her co