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"Don't get upset needlessly, Phil," he said soothingly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Sir Philip had also risen from his seat, and for the briefest possible space the three men stood thus, facing each other, as if uncertain how to act. Then the tense silence of the dining-room was broken by the loud report of a fire-arm. "Let me go!" cried Phil shrilly, shaking off Musard's arm.

"Shall I mention his name, Mr. Heredith?" Phil nodded, as though he were unable to speak. "The man is Captain Nepcote." "Nepcote!" A swift flash of wrath came into Musard's heavy dark eyes as he uttered the name. Then, in a wider understanding of the sordid interpretation of Colwyn's story, he hesitatingly added: "I think I see. It was Nepcote's revolver. Was it he who shot Violet?"

He ceased and turned around at the sound of the opening door, and, thrusting his fountain pen behind an ear already burdened with a cigarette, waited to be informed what the visitors wanted. "Is Mr. Wendover in?" Colwyn inquired. "Yes, he is. What name, please?" The young Jew scrambled down from his stool preparatory to carrying a message. In answer Colwyn tendered Musard's card of introduction.

Hazel Rath has been arrested for the murder of Violet." "Who?" The tone of detachment disappeared. The interrogation was flung at Musard's head with a world of incredulity and amazement. "Hazel Rath, the housekeeper's daughter." "In the name of God, why?" "Gently, laddie. Sit down, and take it quietly. I'll tell you all."

By the prompting of that mysterious association of ideas which is called memory, Colwyn was reminded of his earlier visit to the gun-room downstairs, and Musard's statement about the famous pair of pistols in the brass-bound mahogany box, which "carried as true as a rifle up to fifty yards, but had a heavy recoil."

"An influence! a woman who ought to be turned out of Musard's by the police for such dancing!" "I agree to all that; I accept the condemnation and I'll leave your house. But you know Adam. If I give up the management of your property you must show energy yourself.

He had left in his London banker's strong room his latest collection of precious stones, after forwarding anonymously to Christie's a particularly fine pearl as a donation towards the British Red Cross necklace. Musard's present stay at the moat-house was to be a brief one.

The butler left the room, and Caldew looked up, to encounter Musard's eyes regarding him. "Do you think this has anything to do with the murder?" Musard asked. Caldew hesitated for a moment. It was on the tip of his tongue to reply that he attached no importance to the butler's statement, but professional habits of caution checked his natural impulsiveness.

The British Government, on learning of his return to his native land, had asked him to go over to the front to adjust some trouble which had arisen between the head-men of a Kaffir labour compound. As Musard's wide knowledge of African tribes rendered him peculiarly fitted for such a task, he had willingly complied with the request, and was to go to France on the following day.

On the third floor, according to his count, a door looked like what he remembered of Musard's, but it yielded no answer to his knocking. A flight higher there was another which stood an inch or so ajar, and this he ventured to push open that he might look in. It yielded him a room empty of life, but he remained in the doorway looking.