I came out of the Lavender Arms full of a knowledge that so far as Mid-Hatton was concerned, Colin Camber was already found guilty. I had hoped to see something of Val Beverley on my return, but she remained closeted with Madame de Stämer, and I was left in loneliness to pursue my own reflections, and to perfect that theory which had presented itself to my mind. In Harley’s absence I had taken it upon myself to give an order to Pedro to the effect that no reporters were to be admitted; and in this I had done well. So quickly does evil news fly that, between mid-day and the hour of Harley’s return, no fewer than five reporters, I believe, presented themselves at Cray’s Folly. Some of the more persistent continued to haunt the neighbourhood, and I had withdrawn to the deserted library, in order to avoid observation, when I heard a car draw up in the courtyard, and a moment later heard Harley asking for me. I hurried out to meet him, and as I appeared at the door of the library: “Hullo, Knox,” he called, running up the steps. “Any developments?” “No actual development?” I replied, “except that several members of the Press have been here.” “You told them nothing?” he asked, eagerly. “No; they were not admitted.” “Good, good,” he muttered. “I had expected you long before this, Harley.” “Naturally,” he said, with a sort of irritation. “I have been all the way to Whitehall and back.” “To Whitehall! What, you have been to London?” “I had half anticipated it, Knox. The Chief Constable, although quite a decent fellow, is a stickler for routine. On the strength of those facts which I thought fit to place before him he could see no reason for superseding Aylesbury. Accordingly, without further waste of time, I headed straight for Whitehall. You may remember a somewhat elaborate report which I completed upon the eve of our departure from Chancery Lane?” I nodded. “A very thankless job for the Home Office, Knox. But I received my reward to-day. Inspector Wessex has been placed in charge of the case and I hope he will be down here within the hour. Pending his arrival I am tied hand and foot.” We had walked into the library, and, stopping, suddenly, Harley stared me very hard in the face. “You are bottling something up, Knox,” he declared. “Out with it. Has Aylesbury distinguished himself again?” “No,” I replied; “on the contrary. He interviewed Madame de Stämer, and came out with a flea in his ear.” “Good,” said Harley, smiling. “A clever woman, and a woman of spirit, Knox.” “You are right,” I replied, “and you are also right in supposing that I have a communication to make to you.” “Ah, I thought so. What is it?” “It is a theory, Harley, which appears to me to cover the facts of the case.” “Indeed?” said he, continuing to stare at me. “And what inspired it?” “I was staring up at the window of the smoke-room to-day, and I remembered the shadow which you had seen upon the blind.”