particular friend of Miss Duggan's.... But time's getting along,
and I've a good distance to go. So I'll be off, if you don't mind.
Good-night."

"Good-night."

Cleek nodded to him in the half dark, then as the man swung away from
him down the wide drive, turned in his tracks and watched him till the
moon, hiding under a cloud, hid him, too.

"Macdonald, eh? The unfortunate lover whom the father will not
countenance. H'm. Wonder what he was doing here at this time of night?
Rather nervous, I should say, at our encounter. And why the dickens--if
anything's happened--didn't he know something about it? It's a good
twenty minutes since she signalled to me, and if he's just come from
the house----"

Of a sudden he stopped short and sucked in his breath as a new thought
penetrated itself into that perfectly pigeon-holed and regulated
mentality of his. "Gad! surely _he_ hasn't---- Well! I ought to have
detained him and brought him back on some pretext--if anything really
_has_ happened to cause her to want me at this hour of the night....
Well, I'll nip along and find out. And if anything's really wrong, I
shan't forget _that_ gentleman in a hurry."

He reached the house without further adventure, and rang the door-bell
with a steady hand. But he was hardly prepared for its response. For at
the sound of it Maud Duggan came running toward him, her face white as a
dead face, her eyes wild, her hair untidy, and clutching him by the arm
fairly hauled him into the hallway, just as the butler--stung out of his
calm demeanour by the happenings of that night--appeared from the end of
the hall and came toward them.

"Oh, I'm so glad you came, so glad, Mr. Deland!" she shrilled out in a
high-pitched, terrified voice. "It was lucky you turned up as--as you
promised. But I'm afraid our game of c-cards cannot take place.
Because--oh, how can I say it? How? A terrible thing has happened, Mr.
Deland, and that which I feared has come to pass, only in a much more
awful manner! My--my f-father has been murdered, in full sight of us
all, right there in the library, just as he was about to draw up a new
will to disinherit Ross. Foully ... murdered ... poor darling!"

Then the sobs caught in her throat, and she turned away a moment and hid
her face in her handkerchief, while Cleek, mastering his curiosity and
amazement at this curious and amazing statement, waited a moment for her
to regain her composure. Then:

"My dear young lady!" he