early two bottles of Tarragona port, in
threepenny glasses, during the day."

"I should have credited Hill with a better taste in port, with his
opportunities as Sir Horace Fewbanks's butler," said Inspector
Chippenfield drily. "What you have found out, Rolfe, only goes to bear
out my own discovery that Hill is deeply implicated in this affair. I
have found out, for my part, that Hill did not spend the night of the
murder at home here."

There was a ring of triumph in Inspector Chippenfield's voice as he
announced this discovery, but before Rolfe could make any comment upon
it there was a quick step behind them, and both men turned, to see Hill.
The butler was astonished at finding the two police officers in his
wife's shop. He hesitated, and apparently his first impulse was to turn
into the street again; but, realising the futility of such a course, he
came forward with an attempt to smooth his worried face into a
conciliatory smile.

"Hill!" said Inspector Chippenfield sternly. "Once and for all, will you
own up where you were on the night of the murder?"

Hill started slightly, then, with admirable self-command, he recovered
himself and became as tight-lipped and reticent as ever.

"I've already told you, sir," he replied smoothly. "I spent it in my own
home. If you ask my wife, sir, she'll tell you I never stirred out of the
house after I came back from taking my little girl to the Zoo."

"I know she will, you scoundrel!" burst out the choleric inspector.
"She's been well tutored by you, and she tells the tale very well. But
it's no good, Hill. You forgot to tutor your little daughter, and she's
innocently put you away. What's more, you were seen in London before
daybreak the night after the murder. The game's up, my man."

Inspector Chippenfield produced a pair of handcuffs as he spoke. Hill
passed his tongue over his dry lips before he was able to speak.

"Don't put them on me," he said imploringly, as Inspector Chippenfield
advanced towards him. "I'll--I'll confess!"

CHAPTER XI

Inspector Chippenfield's first words were a warning.

"You know what you are saying, Hill?" he asked. "You know what this
means? Any statement you make may be used in evidence against you at
your trial."

"I'll tell you everything," faltered Hill. The impassive mask of the
well-trained English servant had dropped from him, and he stood revealed
as a trembling elderly man with furtive eyes, and a painfully shaken
ma