“Therefore,” continued Wessex, “I am waiting to hear, Inspector, where you found the bullet lodged?” “Eh?” said the Inspector, and he slowly turned his prominent eyes in Harley’s direction. “Oh, I see. That’s why you wanted to examine the Tudor garden, is it?” “Exactly,” replied Harley. The face of Inspector Aylesbury grew very red. “I had deferred looking for the bullet,” he explained, “as the case was already as clear as daylight. Probably Mr. Harley has discovered it.” “I have,” said Harley, shortly. “Is it the regulation bullet?” asked Wessex. “It is. I found it embedded in one of the yew trees.” “There you are!” exclaimed Aylesbury. “There isn’t the ghost of a doubt.” Wessex looked at Harley in undisguised perplexity. “I must say, Mr. Harley,” he admitted, “that I have never met with a clearer case.” “Neither have I,” agreed Harley, cheerfully. “I am going to ask Inspector Aylesbury to return here after nightfall. There is a little experiment which I should like to make, and which would definitely establish my case.” “_Your_ case?” said Aylesbury. “My case, yes.” “You are not going to tell me that you still persist in believing Camber to be innocent?” “Not at all. I am merely going to ask you to return at nightfall to assist me in this minor investigation.” “If you ask my opinion,” said the Inspector, “no further evidence is needed.” “I don’t agree with you,” replied Harley, quietly. “Whatever your own ideas upon the subject may be, I, personally, have not yet discovered one single piece of convincing evidence for the prosecution of Camber.” “What!” exclaimed Aylesbury, and even Detective-Inspector Wessex stared at the speaker incredulously. “My dear Inspector Aylesbury,” concluded Harley, “when you have witnessed the experiment which I propose to make this evening you will realize, as I have already realized that we are faced by a tremendous task.” “What tremendous task?” “The task of discovering who shot Colonel Menendez.” CHAPTER XXXI YSOLA CAMBER’S CONFESSION Paul Harley, with Wessex and Inspector Aylesbury, presently set out for Market Hilton, where Colin Camber and Ah Tsong were detained and where the body of Colonel Menendez had been conveyed for the purpose of the post-mortem. I had volunteered to remain at Cray’s Folly, my motive being not wholly an unselfish one. “Refer reporters to me, Mr. Knox,” said Inspector Wessex. “Don’t let them trouble the ladies. And tell them as little as possible, yourself.” The drone of the engine having died away down the avenue, I presently found myself alone, but as I crossed the hall in the direction of the library, intending to walk out upon the southern lawns, I saw Val Beverley coming toward me from Madame de Stämer’s room. She remained rather pale, but smiled at me courageously. “Have they all gone, Mr. Knox?” she asked. “I have really been hiding. I suppose you knew?” “I suspected it,” I said, smiling. “Yes, they are all gone. How is Madame de Stämer, now?”