o. I don't see that we are any nearer laying hands on a
murderer because we have unearthed various little scandals in the
lives of Mortimer Fenley's sons. And what game are you playing with
this artist, Trenholme?"

"The supremely interesting problem just now is the game which he is
playing with Robert Fenley. If that young ass attacks him he'll get
the licking he wants, and if you're in any doubt about my
pronouns----"

"Oh, dash you and your pronouns! Here's Tomlinson. Quick! Have you a
plan of any sort?"

"Three! Three separate lines of attack, each deadly. But there are
folk whose mental equipment renders them incapable of understanding
plain English. Now, my friend Tomlinson will show you what I mean.
I'll ask him a simple question, and he will give you a perfect example
of a direct answer. Tomlinson, can you tell me what the extrados of a
voussoir is?"

"No, Mr. Furneaux, I can not," said the butler, smiling at what he
regarded as the little man's humor.

"There!" cried Furneaux delightedly. "Ain't I a prophet? No evasions
about Tomlinson, are there?"

"I think you're cracked," growled Winter, picking up his suitcase. "If
I'm to stay here tonight, I shall want a room of some sort. Mr.
Tomlinson, can you----"

"Share mine," broke in Furneaux. "I'm the quietest sleeper living. Our
friend here is sure to have at disposal a room with two beds in it."

"The principal guest room is unoccupied," said the butler.

"Where is it?"

"On the first floor, sir, facing south."

"Couldn't be better. The very thing. Ah! Here comes my baggage." And
the others saw a policeman bicycling up the avenue, with a small
portmanteau balanced precariously between the handlebars and the front
buttons of his tunic.

"You gentlemen will dine in my room, I hope?" said Tomlinson, when he
had escorted them upstairs.

"We are not invited to the family circle, at any rate," said Winter.

"Well, you will not suffer on that account," announced Tomlinson
genially. "Of course, I shall not have the pleasure of sharing the
meal with you, but dinner will be served at a quarter to eight. Mr.
Furneaux knows his way about the house, so, with your permission, I'll
leave you at present. If you're disengaged at nine thirty I'll be glad
to see you in my sanctum."

"Isn't he a gem?" cried Furneaux, when the door had closed, and he and
Winter were alone.

Winter sat down on the side of a bed. He was worried, and did not
strive to hide it. For