him and
practically nothing at all of Moira.

I spent most of my time thinking. I went over everything that had
happened from the moment I sat down on the beach right down to the visit
of that interesting and entertaining gentleman who had made his exit
from the house in so unorthodox a manner. There was logic running right
through the piece; every little incident seemed to dovetail into the
others, yet, because I did not have the key, I could not read the
riddle. Why did the man on the beach fire at Bryce? I could not say.
Then just for amusement's sake I got a piece of paper and a pencil and
dotted down the items that wanted explaining. They ran somehow like
this:--

1. Why was Bryce shot at?

2. Why was he being watched?

3. What was the meaning of those figures I had seen?

4. Why was Bryce so anxious to avoid publicity?

5. Why did everybody seem satisfied when the burglar got away?

6. What was the burglar after, and why was he apparently satisfied even
when he got the wrong figures?

7. What did the piece of driftwood have to do with it, and what
connection was there between the wood and the typed figures?

And, lastly, what was it all about, anyhow?

Some of the items taken singly were quite susceptible of explanation,
but I could not put forward any solution that covered them in toto. So
eventually I gave it up, deciding that it wasn't my affair, and the less
I worried myself about what didn't concern me, the better.

* * * * *

The tragedy, coming as it did like a bolt out of a clear sky, so upset
everything that I really cannot say whether it was a week or ten days
later that it happened. But I do remember, with that accuracy of detail
that a man sometimes retains even when he is doubtful of essentials, the
various events of that evening.

Immediately after tea Bryce rose from the table with the expressed
intention of going to his study. I recall that he remarked to Moira as
he passed her that everything was going along swimmingly, and that if he
had no further word during the next couple of days he would consider
that it was quite safe to try his luck. I didn't understand what he
meant, though he seemed to be referring in a general way to the late
burglary, if burglary it could be called. Moira was quite aware of the
drift of his remarks, for she asked him wouldn't it be better to let the
week elapse before he did anything.

"We've waited too long," he said. "