nlooked-for. But Brett felt that a family quarrel would not further his
object at that moment. It was necessary to stop the imminent outburst, for
David Hume and Giovanni Capella were silently challenging each other to
mortal combat. What a place of ill-omen to the descendants of the Georgian
baronet was this sun-lit library with its spacious French windows!

"Of course," said the barrister, speaking as quietly as if he were
discussing the weather, "such a topic is an unpleasant one. It is,
however, unavoidable. My young friend here is determined, at all costs, to
discover the secret of Sir Alan's murder. It is imperative that he should
do so. The happiness of his whole life depends upon his success. Until
that mystery is solved he cannot marry the woman he loves."

"Do you mean Helen Layton?" Margaret's syllables might have been so many
mortal daggers.

"Yes."

"Is David still in love with her?"

"Yes."

"And she with him?"

David Hume broke in:

"Yes, Rita. She has been faithful to the end."

A very forcible Italian oath came from Capella as he passed through the
window and strode rapidly out of sight, passing to the left of the house,
where one of the lines of yew trees ended in a group of conservatories.

Margaret was now deadly white. She pressed her hand to her bosom.

"Forgive me," she sobbed. "I do not feel well. You will both be always
welcome here. Let no one interfere with you. But I must leave you. This
afternoon--"

She staggered to the door. Her cousin caught her.

"Thank you, Davie," she whispered. "Leave me now. I will be all right
soon. My heart troubles me. No. Do not ring. Let us keep our miseries from
the servants."

She passed out, leaving Hume and the barrister uncertain how best to act
The situation had developed with a vengeance. Brett was more bewildered
than ever before in his life.

"That scoundrel killed Alan, and now he wants to kill his own wife!"
growled Hume, when they were alone.

Brett looked through him rather than at him. He was thinking intently. For
a long time--minutes it seemed to his fuming companion--he remained
motionless, with glazed, immovable eyes. Then he awoke to action.

"Quick!" he cried. "Tell me if this room has changed much since you were
last here. Is the furniture the same? Is that the writing-table? What
chair did you sit in? Where was it placed? Quick, man! You have wasted
eighteen months. Give me no opinions, but facts."

Thus admonished, s