e had driven to his rooms. Then,
feeling his strength failing, he had hastily summoned her to his side.

Why?

If he had suspected her of being the author of any foul play he most
certainly would not have begged her to come to him in his last moments.
No. The enigma grew more and more inscrutable.

And yet there was a motive for poor Bellairs' tragic end--one which, in
the light of his own knowledge, seemed only too apparent.

He strolled on beside the fair-faced girl, deep in wonder. Recollections
of that devil-may-care cavalry officer who had been such a good friend
clouded her brow, and as she walked her eyes were cast upon the ground in
silent reflection.

She was wondering whether Walter Fetherston had guessed the truth, that
she had loved that man who had met with such an untimely end.

Her companion, on his part, was equally puzzled. That story of Barker's
finding a white feather was a curious one. It was true that the man had
found a white feather--but he had also learnt that when Enid Orlebar had
arrived at Hill Street she had been wearing a white feather boa!

"It is not curious, after all," he said reflectively, "that the police
should have dismissed the affair as a death from natural causes. At the
inquest no suspicion whatever was aroused. I wonder why Barker, in his
evidence, made no mention of that perfume--or of the discovery of the
feather?"

And as he uttered those words he fixed his grave eyes upon her, watching
her countenance intently.

"Well," she replied, after a moment's hesitation, "if he had it would
have proved nothing, would it? If the captain had received a lady visitor
in secret that afternoon it might have had no connection with the
circumstances of his death six hours later."

"And yet it might," Fetherston remarked. "What more natural than that the
lady who visited him clandestinely--for Barker had, no doubt, been sent
out of the way on purpose that he should not see her--should have dined
with him later?"

The girl moved uneasily, tapping the ground with her stick.

"Then you suspect some woman of having had a hand in his death?" she
exclaimed in a changed voice, her eyes again cast upon the ground.

"I do not know sufficient of the details to entertain any distinct
suspicion," he replied. "I regard the affair as a mystery, and in
mysteries I am always interested."

"You intend to bring the facts into a book," she remarked. "Ah! I see."

"Perhaps--if I obtain a solutio