"Not altogether," Sir Eldred replied. "Parry is rather fussy and officious, and his wife much too soapy. My father, however, found them honest, and I don't suppose I could improve on them." "Well," I said, "as I have already remarked, I can't give you an opinion till I've seen the house. Supposing you engage me as your secretary?" "An excellent idea," Sir Eldred cried, his face lighting with enthusiasm. "To tell the truth, I don't much like the idea of sleeping there alone. Will you go back with me to-night? I will wire to Parry to get a room ready for you." As my time was my own just then, I agreed, and that afternoon saw me tearing off in a taxi to meet Sir Eldred at Waterloo. The Caspar Beeches, a large old family mansion, is situated nearer Winton than Bournemouth proper, and in the midst of the most lovely forest scenery. An air of impressive sadness hung around it, which, although no doubt largely due to the season and lateness of the hour, still, I thought, owed its origin, in part, to some very different cause; and when, on entering, I glanced round the big, gloomy, oak-panelled hall with its dim, far-reaching galleries, I inwardly remarked that this might well be the home of a dozen hidden mysteries, a dozen lurking assassins, that could prowl about and hide there, without the remotest fear of discovery. The door had been opened to us by a tall, thin, bald-headed old man, with small and rather deep-set eyes of the most pronounced blue, and a rather cut-away chin. He expressed himself overjoyed to see his young master back again, and was most emphatic in his assurances that our rooms were quite ready for us. His wife, an elderly woman with dark, keen, penetrating eyes and slightly prominent cheekbones, met us in the hall. I knew, of course, that she was Mrs. Parry, when she spoke, but her voice came as a surprise. In striking contrast to her appearance it was soft and low, and not altogether unmusical. The other servants did not interest me much--they were the type one sees in all well-to-do establishments--and yet I felt that if I were to get at the bottom of the mystery that unquestionably shrouded the deaths of Sir Eldred's three relatives, I must watch everyone very closely; for the key to a great secret is often found where least expected. We dined at eight o'clock, and after dinner I took a brief survey of the house. This enabled me to form some idea of the general arrangement of the rooms and where certain of them were situated. My bedroom, I found, was separated from that of Sir Eldred by the entire length of a corridor, and at my suggestion the room adjoining his own was allotted to me instead. Mrs. Parry demurred a little at the change, remarking that the room next Sir Eldred's had not been aired; but I told her I was not in the least degree likely to catch cold, as I had often slept in queer places, having spent a considerable portion of my life in the backwoods of Canada. Sir Eldred laughed.