inconceivable."

"You cannot throw any new light upon the affair?"

"I know nothing myself save what I have read or heard. I have no
desire to be discourteous, but you can understand, Mr. Holmes, that we
are much disturbed at present, and I must ask you to hasten this
interview to an end."

"This is indeed an unexpected development," said my friend when we had
regained the cab. "I wonder if the death was natural, or whether the
poor old fellow killed himself! If the latter, may it be taken as some
sign of self-reproach for duty neglected? We must leave that question
to the future. Now we shall turn to the Cadogan Wests."

A small but well-kept house in the outskirts of the town sheltered the
bereaved mother. The old lady was too dazed with grief to be of any
use to us, but at her side was a white-faced young lady, who introduced
herself as Miss Violet Westbury, the fiancee of the dead man, and the
last to see him upon that fatal night.

"I cannot explain it, Mr. Holmes," she said. "I have not shut an eye
since the tragedy, thinking, thinking, thinking, night and day, what
the true meaning of it can be. Arthur was the most single-minded,
chivalrous, patriotic man upon earth. He would have cut his right hand
off before he would sell a State secret confided to his keeping. It is
absurd, impossible, preposterous to anyone who knew him."

"But the facts, Miss Westbury?"

"Yes, yes; I admit I cannot explain them."

"Was he in any want of money?"

"No; his needs were very simple and his salary ample. He had saved a
few hundreds, and we were to marry at the New Year."

"No signs of any mental excitement? Come, Miss Westbury, be absolutely
frank with us."

The quick eye of my companion had noted some change in her manner. She
coloured and hesitated.

"Yes," she said at last, "I had a feeling that there was something on
his mind."

"For long?"

"Only for the last week or so. He was thoughtful and worried. Once I
pressed him about it. He admitted that there was something, and that
it was concerned with his official life. 'It is too serious for me to
speak about, even to you,' said he. I could get nothing more."

Holmes looked grave.

"Go on, Miss Westbury. Even if it seems to tell against him, go on.
We cannot say what it may lead to."

"Indeed, I have nothing more to tell. Once or twice it seemed to me
that he was on the point of telling me something. He spoke one evening
of the importa