jaws of the pocket. The white
was in the centre.

Kent looked into Throgton's face.

The balls were standing in the very same position on the table as on the
night of the murder.

"I did that on purpose," said Kent quietly.

"What do you mean?" asked Throgton.

"The position of those balls," said Kent. "Mr. Throgton, come into the
library. I have something to say to you. You know already what it is."

They went into the library. Throgton, his hand unsteady, lighted a
cigar.

"Well," he said, "what is it?"

"Mr. Throgton," said Kent, "two weeks ago you gave me a mystery to
solve. To-night I can give you the solution. Do you want it?"

Throgton's face never moved.

"Well," he said.

"A man's life," Kent went on, "may be played out on a billiard table. A
man's soul, Throgton, may be pocketed."

"What devil's foolery is this?" said Throgton. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that your crime is known--plotter, schemer that you are, you are
found out--hypocrite, traitor; yes, Masterman Throgton, or rather--let
me give you your true name-_Peter Kelly_, murderer, I denounce you!"

Throgton never flinched. He walked across to where Kent stood, and with
his open palm he slapped him over the mouth.

"Transome Kent," he said, "you're a liar."

Then he walked back to his chair and sat down.

"Kent," he continued, "from the first moment of your mock investigation,
I knew who you were. Your every step was shadowed, your every movement
dogged. Transome Kent--by your true name, _Peter Kelly_, murderer, I
denounce you."

Kent walked quietly across to Throgton and dealt him a fearful blow
behind the ear.

"You're a liar," he said, "I am not Peter Kelly."

They sat looking at one another.

At that moment Throgton's servant appeared at the door.

"A gentleman to see you, sir."

"Who?" said Throgton.

"I don't know, sir, he gave his card."

Masterman Throgton took the card.

On it was printed:

_PETER KELLY_

CHAPTER IX

LET ME TELL YOU THE STORY OF MY LIFE

For a moment Throgton and Kent sat looking at one another.

"Show the man up," said Throgton.

A minute later the door opened and a man entered. Kent's keen eye
analysed him as he stood. His blue clothes, his tanned face, and the
extraordinary dexterity of his fingers left no doubt of his calling. He
was a sailor.

"Sit down," said Throgton.

"Thank you," said the sailor, "it rests my wooden leg."

The two men looked again. One of the