when I broke open the door and
found him murdered, and returned in company with the police.

"You saw nothing suspicious that first time?" he asked. "You are sure
there was no one in the rooms then?"

"Well, I can't be certain. I only just looked in; and then ran down
again; I was in a desperate hurry, for I was late, as it was; I thought
the whole thing a horrible bore, but I couldn't leave the old man
fainting on the stairs. Cassavetti certainly wasn't in his rooms then,
anyhow, and I shouldn't think any one else was; for he told me
afterwards, at dinner, that he came in before seven. He must have just
missed the old man."

"What became of the key?"

"I gave it back to the old man."

"Although you thought it strange that such a person should be in
possession of it?"

"Well, it wasn't my affair, was it?" I remonstrated. "I didn't give him
the key in the first instance."

"Now will you tell me, Mr. Wynn, why, when you left Lord Southbourne,
you did not go straight home? That's a point that may prove important."

"I didn't feel inclined to turn in just then, so I went for a stroll."

"In the rain?"

"It wasn't raining then; it was a lovely night for a little while, till
the second storm came on, and my hat blew off."

"And when you got in you heard no sound from Mr. Cassavetti's rooms?
They're just over yours, aren't they? Nothing at all, either during the
night or next morning?"

"Nothing. I was out all the morning, and when I came in I fetched up the
housekeeper to help me pack. It was he who remarked how quiet the place
was. Besides, the poor chap had evidently been killed as soon as he got
home."

"Just so, but the rooms might have been ransacked after and not before
the murder," Sir George said dryly. "Though I don't think that's
probable. Well, Mr. Wynn, you've told me everything?"

"Everything," I answered promptly.

"Then we shall see what the other side have to say at the preliminary
hearing."

He chatted for a few minutes about my recent adventures in Russia; and
then, to my relief, took himself off. I felt just about dead beat!

In the course of the day I got a wire from Jim Cayley, handed in at
Morwen, a little place in Cornwall.

"Returning to town at once; be with you to-morrow."

He turned up early next morning.

"Good heavens, Maurice, what's all this about?" he demanded. "We've been
wondering why we didn't hear from you; and now--why, man, you're an
utter wreck!"

"No, I'm n