ne who had nothing more to say. His colleague
was evidently perplexed, and showed it, but extricated the others from
an awkward situation with the tact for which he was noted.

"I am much obliged to you for your candor in supplying such a clear
summary of the family history, Mr. Fenley," he said. "Of course, we
shall be meeting you frequently during the next few days, and
developments can be discussed as they arise."

His manner, more than his words, conveyed an intimation that when the
opportunity served he would trounce Furneaux for an indiscretion.
Fenley was mollified.

"Command me in every way," he said.

"There is one more question, the last and the gravest," said Winter
seriously. "Do you suspect any one of committing this murder?"

"No! On my soul and honor, no!"

"Thank you, sir. We'll tackle the butler now, if you please."

"I'll send him," said Fenley. Probably in nervous forgetfulness, he
lighted a cigarette and went out, blowing two long columns of smoke
through his nostrils. He might, or might not, have been pleased had he
heard the reprimanding of Furneaux.

"Good stroke, that about the stage, Charles," mumbled Winter. Furneaux
threw out his hands with a gesture of disgust.

"What an actor the man is!" he almost hissed, owing to the need there
was of subduing his piping voice to a whisper. "Every word thought
out, but allowed to be dragged forth reluctantly. Putting brother Bob
into the tureen, isn't he? 'On my soul and honor,' too! Don't you
remember, some French blighter said that when an innocent man was
being made a political scapegoat?... Of course, the mother is a
Eurasian, and he has met her. A nice dish he served up! A salad of
easily ascertainable facts with a dressing of lying innuendo. Name of
a pipe! If Master Hilton hadn't been in the house----"

A knock, and the door opened.

"You want me, gentlemen, I am informed by Mr. Hilton Fenley," said
Tomlinson.

There spoke the butler, discreet, precise, incapable of error.
Tomlinson had recovered his breath and his dignity. He was in his own
domain. The very sight of the Mid-Victorian furniture gave him
confidence. His skilled glance traveled to the decanter and the empty
glass. He knew to a minim how much brandy had evaporated since his
last survey of the sideboard.

"Sit down, Tomlinson," said Winter pleasantly. "You must have been
dreadfully shocked by this morning's occurrence."

Tomlinson sat down. He drew the chair somewhat a