ning whence these cries proceeded, they hurried on at a
gallop, and came up--quite close to the boundary of Lord Arthur
Skelmerton's grounds--upon a group of three men, two of whom seemed to
be wrestling vigorously with one another, whilst the third was lying
face downwards on the ground. As soon as the constables drew near, one
of the wrestlers shouted more vigorously, and with a certain tone of
authority:

"'Here, you fellows, hurry up, sharp; the brute is giving me the slip!'

"But the brute did not seem inclined to do anything of the sort; he
certainly extricated himself with a violent jerk from his assailant's
grasp, but made no attempt to run away. The constables had quickly
dismounted, whilst he who had shouted for help originally added more
quietly:

"'My name is Skelmerton. This is the boundary of my property. I was
smoking a cigar at the pavilion over there with a friend when I heard
loud voices, followed by a cry and a groan. I hurried down the steps,
and saw this poor fellow lying on the ground, with a knife sticking
between his shoulder-blades, and his murderer,' he added, pointing to
the man who stood quietly by with Constable McNaught's firm grip upon
his shoulder, 'still stooping over the body of his victim. I was too
late, I fear, to save the latter, but just in time to grapple with the
assassin--"

"'It's a lie!' here interrupted the man hoarsely. 'I didn't do it,
constable; I swear I didn't do it. I saw him fall--I was coming along a
couple of hundred yards away, and I tried to see if the poor fellow was
dead. I swear I didn't do it.'

"'You'll have to explain that to the inspector presently, my man,' was
Constable McNaught's quiet comment, and, still vigorously protesting his
innocence, the accused allowed himself to be led away, and the body was
conveyed to the station, pending fuller identification.

"The next morning the papers were full of the tragedy; a column and a
half of the _York Herald_ was devoted to an account of Lord Arthur
Skelmerton's plucky capture of the assassin. The latter had continued to
declare his innocence, but had remarked, it appears, with grim humour,
that he quite saw he was in a tight place, out of which, however, he
would find it easy to extricate himself. He had stated to the police
that the deceased's name was Charles Lavender, a well-known bookmaker,
which fact was soon verified, for many of the murdered man's 'pals'
were still in the city.

"So far the most