be very
glad if you could spare me a little time, late as it is. I have come
from the country to see you."

Colwyn nodded without speaking. Strange adventures had come to him at
stranger hours. He showed the way to the lift, switched off the electric
light he had turned on in the passage, and ascended with his visitor to
his rooms. There his companion, with an impulsiveness which contrasted
with the detective's quiet composure, again spoke:

"I want your assistance, Mr. Colwyn."

"Will you not be seated?" said the detective, as with a swift glance he
took in the external attributes of his young and well-dressed visitor.

"Thank you. I regret to disturb you at such a late hour, but the train I
travelled by was greatly delayed by an accident. I thought at first of
postponing my visit till the morning, but it is so urgent--to me, at all
events--that I determined to try and see you to-night."

"It was just as well that you did. I may be called out of London in the
morning."

"Then I am glad that I came. My name is Heredith--Philip Heredith."

Colwyn looked at his visitor with a keener interest. The London
newspapers were full of the particulars of the moat-house crime, and had
published intimate accounts of the Heredith family, their wealth, social
position, and standing in the county. Colwyn, as he glanced at Philip
Heredith, came to the conclusion that the London picture papers had been
once more guilty of deceiving their credulous readers. The portraits
they had published of him in no wise resembled the young man who was now
seated opposite him, regarding him with a sad and troubled look.

"I have heard of your great skill and cleverness in criminal
investigation, Mr. Colwyn," continued Phil earnestly, "and wish to avail
myself of your help. That is the object of my visit."

Colwyn waited for his visitor to disclose the reasons which had brought
him, seeking advice. He had followed the newspaper accounts of the
murder and police investigations with keen interest. The special
correspondents had done full justice to the arrest of Hazel Rath. There
is no room for reticence or delicacy in modern journalism, and no
reserves except those dictated by fear of the law for libel. Colwyn was
therefore aware that Hazel Rath figured as "the woman in the case," and
was supposed to have shot the young wife in a fit of jealousy. The
newspapers, in publishing these disclosures, had hinted at the existence
of previous tender re