ather--but in order to see if a very
important business letter had come for me in my absence.

"'Then I went out again, and met Mr. Aaron Cohen not far from the
Harewood Club. I walked the greater part of the way with him, and our
conversation was of the most amicable character. We parted at the top of
Portland Place, near the gate of the Square, where the policeman saw us.
Mr. Cohen then had the intention of cutting across the Square, as being
a shorter way to his own house. I thought the Square looked dark and
dangerous in the fog, especially as Mr. Cohen was carrying a large sum
of money.

"'We had a short discussion on the subject, and finally I persuaded him
to take my revolver, as I was going home only through very frequented
streets, and moreover carried nothing that was worth stealing. After a
little demur Mr. Cohen accepted the loan of my revolver, and that is
how it came to be found on the actual scene of the crime; finally I
parted from Mr. Cohen a very few minutes after I had heard the church
clock striking a quarter before three. I was at the Oxford Street end of
Great Portland Street at five minutes to three, and it takes at least
ten minutes to walk from where I was to the Ashton Club.'

"This explanation was all the more credible, mind you, because the
question of the revolver had never been very satisfactorily explained by
the prosecution. A man who has effectually strangled his victim would
not discharge two shots of his revolver for, apparently, no other
purpose than that of rousing the attention of the nearest passer-by. It
was far more likely that it was Mr. Cohen who shot--perhaps wildly into
the air, when suddenly attacked from behind. Mr. Ashley's explanation
therefore was not only plausible, it was the only possible one.

"You will understand therefore how it was that, after nearly half an
hour's examination, the magistrate, the police, and the public were
alike pleased to proclaim that the accused left the court without a
stain upon his character."

CHAPTER XXX

FRIENDS

"Yes," interrupted Polly eagerly, since, for once, her acumen had been
at least as sharp as his, "but suspicion of that horrible crime only
shifted its taint from one friend to another, and, of course, I know--"

"But that's just it," he quietly interrupted, "you don't know--Mr.
Walter Hatherell, of course, you mean. So did every one else at once.
The friend, weak and willing, committing a crime on behalf of hi