very
pretty plot indeed, only Hamilton Cleek happened to come along instead
of Mr. George Headland, and show you a thing or two about plots."

"Hamilton Cleek!" The name fell from every pair of lips, and even Brent
himself stared at this wizard whom all the world knew, and who
unfortunately had crossed his path when he least wanted him.

"Yes, Hamilton Cleek, gentlemen. Cleek of Scotland Yard. And a very good
thing for you, Mr. Wilson, that I happened to come along. Things looked
very black for you, you know, and those beastly nerves of yours made it
worse. And if it hadn't been for this cad's confederate--"

"Confederate, Mr. Cleek?" put in Wilson shakily. "I--I don't understand.
Who could have been his confederate?"

"None other than old Ramagee," responded Cleek. "You'll find him drugged
as usual, in the Rose and Crown. I've seen him there only a while ago.
But now he is minus a constant companion of his.... And here is the
actual murderer."

He put his hand into another capacious pocket and drew forth a smallish,
glass box.

"The Rope of Fear, gentlemen," he said quietly, "a vicious little
rattler of the most deadly sort. And it won't be long before that
gentleman there becomes acquainted with another sort of rope. Take him
away, Inspector. The bare sight of him hurts an honest man's eyes."

And they took him away forthwith, a writhing, furious Thing, utterly
transformed from the genial personality which had for so long swindled
and outwitted a trusting public.

As the door closed upon them, Cleek turned to young Wilson and held out
his hand.

"I'm sorry to have accused you as I did," he said softly, with a little
smile, "but that is a policeman's way, you know. Strategy is part of the
game--though it was a poor trick of mine to cause you additional pain.
You must forgive me. I don't doubt the death of your father was a great
shock, although you tried manfully to conceal the relationship. No doubt
it was his wish--not yours."

A sudden transformation came over Wilson's pale, haggard face. It was
like the sun shining after a heavy storm.

"You--knew?" he said, over and over again. "You _knew_? Oh, Mr. Cleek,
now I can speak out at last. Father always made me promise to be silent,
he--he wanted me to be a gentleman, and he'd spent every penny he
possessed to get me well enough educated to enter the bank. He was mad
for money, mad for anything which was going to better my position.
And--and I was afraid