marriage probably broken off, a wasted life, in fact.

"Is it small wonder that, though ill-feeling against the Earl of
Brockelsby may have been deep, there was hatred, bitter, deadly hatred
against the man who with false promises had led him into so hopeless a
quagmire? Probably the Hon. Robert owed a great deal of money to
Beddingfield, which the latter hoped to recoup at usurious interest,
with threats of scandal and what not.

"Think of all that," he added, "and then tell me if you believe that a
stronger motive for the murder of such an enemy could well be found."

"But what you suggest is impossible," said Polly, aghast.

"Allow me," he said, "it is more than possible--it is very easy and
simple. The two men were alone together in the Hon. Robert de
Genneville's room after dinner. You, as representing the public, and the
police say that Beddingfield went away and returned half an hour later
in order to kill his client. I say that it was the lawyer who was
murdered at nine o'clock that evening, and that Robert de Genneville,
the ruined man, the hopeless bankrupt, was the assassin."

"Then--"

"Yes, of course, now you remember, for I have put you on the track. The
face and the body were so battered and bruised that they were past
recognition. Both men were of equal height. The hair, which alone could
not be disfigured or obliterated, was in both men similar in colour.

"Then the murderer proceeds to dress his victim in his own clothes. With
the utmost care he places his own rings on the fingers of the dead man,
his own watch in the pocket; a gruesome task, but an important one, and
it is thoroughly well done. Then he himself puts on the clothes of his
victim, with finally the Inverness cape and Glengarry, and when the hall
is full of visitors he slips out unperceived. He sends the messenger for
Beddingfield's portmanteau and starts off by the night express."

"But then his visit at the Castle Hotel at ten o'clock--" she urged.
"How dangerous!"

"Dangerous? Yes! but oh, how clever. You see, he was the Earl of
Brockelsby's twin brother, and twin brothers are always somewhat alike.
He wished to appear dead, murdered by some one, he cared not whom, but
what he did care about was to throw clouds of dust in the eyes of the
police, and he succeeded with a vengeance. Perhaps--who knows?--he
wished to assure himself that he had forgotten nothing in the _mise en
scene_, that the body, battered and bruised past all s