you and I will pull it tight if we have to follow him to----"

"Pardon the interruption, gentlemen," said a voice. "I was called out
o' bed to come to the fire, an' took a short cut across the park. Blow
me if I didn't kick my foot against this!"

And Police Constable Farrow, who had approached unnoticed, held out
an object which seemed to be a rifle. Owing to his being seated
Furneaux's eyes were on a level with it, and he could see more clearly
than the others. He struck a match; then there could be no doubt that
the policeman had actually picked up the weapon which had set in
motion so many and such varied vicissitudes.

But Farrow had more to say. It had been his happy lot during many
hours to figure bravely in the Fenley case, and he carried himself
as a valiant man and true to the end.

"I think I heard you mention Mr. Hilton," he went on. "I met Dr. Stern
in the village, an' he tol' me Mr. Hilton had borrowed his car."

Furneaux stood up.

"Continue, Solomon," he said, and Winter sighed with relief; the
little man was himself again.

"That's all, gentlemen, or practically all. It struck me as unusual,
but Dr. Stern said Mr. Hilton's motor was out o' gear, an' he wanted
a car in a desp'rit hurry."

"He did, indeed!" growled Furneaux. "You're quite sure there is no
mistake?"

"Mistake, sir? How could there be? The doctor was walkin' home. That's
an unusual thing. He never walks a yard if he can help it. Mr. Hilton
borrowed the car to go to St. Albans."

"Did he, indeed? Just how did he come to find the car waiting for
him?"

"Oh, that's the queer part of it. Dr. Stern is lookin' after poor old
Joe Bland, who's mighty bad with--there, now, if I haven't gone and
forgotten the name; something-itis--and Mr. Hilton must have seen the
car standin' outside Bland's house. But what was he doin' in Roxton at
arf past twelve? That's wot beats me. And then, just fancy me stubbin'
my toe against this!"

Again he displayed the rifle as if it were an exhibit and he were
giving evidence.

"Let's go inside and get a light," said Winter, and the four mounted
the steps into the hall. Robert Fenley was there--red-faced as ever,
for he had helped in putting out the fire, but quite sober, since he
had been very sick.

Some lamps and candles gave a fair amount of light, and Robert eyed
Trenholme viciously.

"So it was you!" he said. "I thought it was. Well, my father and
mother are both dead, and this is no time for