' very respectfully, 'but if I were
in your place I would either go to June Jenrys and tell her my whole
story, or else let me tell it to her.'

'Let you!'

'And in going, to pave the way, if I were you, I would send in my
card, and that card should read, "Sir Carroll Rae."'

The murder was out now, and before he could recover from his surprise
I launched into my story, telling of my chief's letter, and of the one
from Sir Hugo Rae which accompanied it, also of the vivid description
which set me to staring at all good-looking blonds.

'My meeting with you in Midway, when you inquired after Miss Jenrys so
anxiously, was my first clue,' I said. 'On that occasion I noted that
you answered the description very well, also that you were not an
American.' He looked at me surprised. 'Oh, your English is perfect;
but it's neither Yankee nor yet Mason and Dixon's English. It's very
fine and polished, but it's different. Oh, I never mistook you for an
American, Sir Carroll Rae; but I might not have given heed to that
first clue, had I not read Miss Jenrys' letter to Hilda O'Neil; then I
said, "Suppose the good-looking guard is this Mr. Lossing, and that
Lossing is Rae?" And then I began to cultivate you.'

'Ah! I begin to understand.'

'Then,' I went on, 'came other tests. Rae was an athlete; Lossing
knocked out a lunch-room beat scientifically, Rae possessed a high and
rich tenor voice; so, I found, did Lossing.'

'When?' he interposed.

'On the night you--ahem--fell into the lagoon. I heard you near the
band-stand singing in the chorus.'

'I see!'

'Then Rae was a fine rider. Lossing can ride also, even a British
cavalry nag. In fine, I studied you from first to last, supposing you
to be Rae, a member of the English aristocracy.'

'Oh, I say!'

'There you go! An American never would say that. Every word of yours,
every act pointed to the same conclusion. You were all that a young
Englishman of good family and fortune should be; and so, Sir
Carroll----'

'Stop! It gives me actual pleasure to find one flaw in your wonderful
summing-up. I am not Sir Carroll. Sir Hugo, my half-brother, bears the
title, and Sir Hugo and I saw little of each other and were never
warm friends.'

'One moment, Sir Carroll. Since that first letter from England, my
chief has received another. Sir Hugo is dead.'

* * * * *

When he had recovered somewhat from the surprise and shock--for a
shock it was, i