lessons
taught by generations of ancestors had to bear fruit now, when a
representative of the ancient name stood confronting the greatest
crisis that one of his kind has ever had to face--the brutal, vulgar
fact of a common murder. The realities of a sordid life brought within
the four walls of a solemn, aristocratic old house.

For a moment before he spoke again the old man looked round about
him, the tall mahogany bookcases filled with silent friends, the busts
of Dryden and of Milton, the globes in their mahogany casings: all
heirlooms from the generations of de Mountfords who had gone before.

It seemed as if the present bearer of the historic name called all
these mute things to witness this present degradation. A crime had
smirched the family escutcheon, for to some minds--those who dwell on
empyrean heights to which the matter-of-fact sordidness of every-day
life never reaches--to those minds the victim is almost as horrible as
the assassin.

Lord Radclyffe however fought his own battle silently. Not with one
tremor or one gasp would he let the two men see what he felt.
Conventionality wielded her iron rod in this shabby old library, just
as she had done in the ball room of the Danish Legation, and whilst
not two hundred yards away Louisa Harris sang Guy d'Hardelot's songs
and smilingly received praise and thanks for her perfect performance,
so here the old man never flinched.

He gave to his nerves the word of command, and as soon as he had
forced them to obey, he looked straight at the police officer and said
quite calmly:

"Please tell me all that I ought to know."

He sat in his high-backed chair, curtly bidding the two men to sit
down; he made no attempt to shade his face and eyes; once the battle
fought and won he had nothing more to hide: his own face, rigid and
still, his firm mouth, and smooth brow were mask enough to conceal the
feelings within.

The officer gave the details at full length: he told Lord Radclyffe
all that was known of the mysterious crime. The old man listened in
silence until the man had finished speaking, then he asked a few
questions:

"You have a clue of course?"

"I think so, my lord," replied the officer guardedly.

"Can I help in any way?"

"Any information, my lord, that you think might help us would of
course be gladly welcomed."

"The man who hailed the cab in Shaftesbury Avenue--what was he like? I
could help you if I knew."

"I'll have his description pro