rners between Blackfriars and Victoria, but as the narrow streets
opened into broader ways he increased the speed of his high-powered car,
and by the time London was left behind for the quiet meadows and
autumn-scented woods they were racing along the white country roads at a
pace which caused the roadside avenues of trees to slide past them like
twin files of soldiers on the double.

Mile after mile slipped away in silence. Beyond an occasional direction
of route by Phil there was no conversation between the two men in the
car. Phil sat back looking straight in front of him, apparently absorbed
in thought, and the car occupied Colwyn's attention. When they reached
the heights above Heredith, Phil pointed to the green flats beneath and
the old house in a shroud of mist.

"That is the moat-house," he said. "The carriage drive is from the
village side." And with that brief indication that they were nearing
their journey's end he once more settled back into silence.

Colwyn brought the car down from the rise into the sleeping village, and
a few minutes later he was driving up the winding carriage way between
the rows of drooping trees. On the other side of the woods the
moat-house came into view. The moonlight gleamed on the high-pitched red
roof, and drenched the garden in whiteness, but the mist which rose from
the waters of the moat swathed the walls of the house like a cerement.
The moon, crouching behind the umbrageous trees of the park, cast a
heavy shadow on the lawn, like a giant's hand menacing the home of
murder.

Late as the hour was, Tufnell was up awaiting their arrival, with a
light supper and wine set ready in a small room off the library. Phil
had telephoned from Colwyn's rooms to say that he was returning with the
detective, and the butler, as he helped them off with their coats, said
that rumours of a railway accident had reached the moat-house, causing
Miss Heredith much anxiety until she received the telephone message.

Colwyn and Phil sat down to supper, with the butler in assiduous
attendance. The meal was a slight and silent one. Phil kept a host's
courteous eye on his guest's needs, but showed no inclination for
conversation, and Colwyn was not the man to talk for talking's sake.
When they had finished Phil asked the butler which room Mr. Colwyn was
to occupy.

"Miss Heredith has had the room next to Sir Philip's prepared, sir."

"No doubt you are tired, Mr. Colwyn, and would like to retire,"