was eyeing Harborough in his stealthy, steady
fashion. He looked as if he was reckoning him up.

"Well, my lad," he observed at last. "You're making a mistake. If you
can't or won't tell what you've been doing with yourself between eight
last night and six this morning, why, then----"

The superintendent came back, holding something in his hand. He, too,
looked at Harborough.

"Will you hold up your left foot?--turn the sole up," he asked. "Just to
see--something."

Harborough complied, readily, but with obvious scornful impatience. And
when he had shown the sole of the left foot, the superintendent opened
his hand and revealed a small crescent-shaped bit of bright steel.

"That's off the toe of your boot, Harborough," he said. "You know it is!
And it's been picked up--just now, as it were--where this affair
happened. You must have lost it there during the last few hours, because
it's quite bright--not a speck of rust on it, you see. What do you say
to that, now?"

"Naught!" retorted Harborough, defiantly. "It is mine, of course--I
noticed it was working loose yesterday. And if it was picked up in that
wood, what then? I passed through there last night on my way to--where I
was going. God--you don't mean to say you'd set a man's life on bits
o'things like that!"

Mallalieu beckoned the superintendent aside and talked with him. Almost
at once he himself turned away and left the room, and the
superintendent came back to the group by the fireplace.

"Well, there's no help for it, Harborough," he said. "We shall have to
detain you--and I shall have to charge you, presently. It can't be
helped--and I hope you'll be able to clear yourself."

"I expected nothing else," replied Harborough. "I'm not blaming you--nor
anybody. Mr. Bent," he continued, turning to where Bent and Brereton
stood a little apart. "I'd be obliged to you if you'd do something for
me. Go and tell my daughter about this, if you please! You see, I came
straight down here--I didn't go into my house when I got back. If you'd
just step up and tell her--and bid her not be afraid--there's naught to
be afraid of, as she'll find--as everybody'll find."

"Certainly," said Bent. "I'll go at once." He tapped Brereton on the
arm, and led him out into the street. "Well?" he asked, when they were
outside. "What do you think of that, now?"

"That man gives one all the suggestion of innocence," remarked Brereton,
thoughtfully, "and from a merely superficial o