allow that villain
even to speak to poor Lydia?"

"Nevertheless, m'sieur," said the tall man quietly, "you must tell us
where you have been."

"That is easily explained. I went to San Remo."

"By road?"

"Yes, by road," said Mr. Briggerland, "on my motor-bicycle."

"What time did you arrive in San Remo?"

"At midday, or it may have been a quarter of an hour before."

"You know that the murder must have been committed at half-past eleven?"
said Jack.

"So the newspapers tell me."

"Where did you go in San Remo?" asked the detective.

"I went to a cafe and had a glass of wine, then I strolled about the
town and lunched at the Victoria. I caught the one o'clock train to
Monte Carlo."

"Did you hear nothing of the murder?"

"Not a word," said Mr. Briggerland, "not a word."

"Did you see the car?"

Mr. Briggerland shook his head.

"I left some time before poor Lydia," he said softly.

"Did you know of any attachment between the chauffeur and your guest?"

"I had no idea such a thing existed. If I had," said Mr. Briggerland
virtuously, "I should have taken immediate steps to have brought poor
Lydia to her senses."

"Your daughter says that they were frequently together. Did you notice
this?"

"Yes, I did notice it, but my daughter and I are very democratic. We
have made a friend of Mordon and I suppose what would have seemed
familiar to you, would pass unnoticed with us. Yes, I certainly do
remember my poor friend and Mordon walking together in the garden."

"Is this yours?" The detective took from behind a curtain an old British
rifle.

"Yes, that is mine," admitted Briggerland without a moment's hesitation.
"It is one I bought in Amiens, a souvenir of our gallant soldiers----"

"I know, I quite understand your patriotic motive in purchasing it,"
said the detective dryly, "but will you tell us how this passed from
your possession."

"I haven't the slightest notion," said Mr. Briggerland in surprise. "I
had no idea it was lost--I'd lost sight of it for some weeks. Can it be
that Mordon--but no, I must not think so evilly of him."

"What were you going to suggest?" asked Jack. "That Mordon fired at Mrs.
Meredith when she was on the swimming raft? If you are, I can save you
the trouble of telling that lie. It was you who fired, and it was I who
knocked you out."

Mr. Briggerland's face was a study.

"I can't understand why you make such a wild and unfounded charge," he
said gently. "Perhaps,