“I’ll be damned if I know what I conclude. That’s your business, isn’t it?” “Not without some facts,” said Lomas. “When did he leave the Hall?” “After Mark was arrested. May 13. And he disappeared on the evening of the second day of the trial.” “That would be when it looked certain that Mark would be found guilty. Why did he wait till then?” Sir Brian laughed. “If I knew that, I suppose I shouldn’t be here. I’m asking you to find him.” “Quite, quite,” Lomas agreed. “The local police knew of his disappearance at once?” “I said so. I wish I had known as soon. The police didn’t bother to mention it at the trial. It might have made some difference to the verdict, Mr. Lomas.” “That’s matter of opinion, of course,” said Lomas. “I wasn’t in England myself. I needn’t tell you that it’s open to the defence to appeal against the conviction.” “Is it?” Sir Brian’s shadowed eyes grew smaller. “You don’t know Mark, Mr. Lomas. If I were to tell you Mark refuses to make an appeal on this ground because it would be putting the murder on the butler, what would you say?” “Good Gad!” was what Lomas did say. He lay back and put up his eyeglass and looked from Sir Brian to Reggie and back again. “You mean Mark admits he is guilty?” “Guilty be damned,” said Sir Brian. “No, sir, I mean Mark liked the wretched fellow and won’t hear of anything against him. Mark’s a fool. But that’s not a reason for hanging him. I say you got your conviction by suppressing evidence. It’s up to you to review the case.” “Still, Lord Carwell was killed,” said Lomas gently, “and somebody killed him. Who was it?” “Not Mark. He hasn’t got it in him, I suppose he never hit a fellow who couldn’t hit back in his life.” “But surely,” Lomas purred, “if there was a quarrel, Lord Carwell might----” “Hugo was a weed,” Sir Brian pronounced. “Mark never touched him, my friend.” “Yes, yes, very natural you should think so,” Lomas shifted his papers. “Of course you won’t expect me to say anything, Sir Brian. And what exactly is it you want me to do?” Sir Brian laughed. “My dear sir, it’s not for me to tell you your duty. I put it to you that a man has disappeared, and that his disappearance makes hay of the case on which the Crown convicted a cousin of mine of murder. What you do about it is your affair.” “You may rely upon it, Sir Brian,” said Lomas in his most official manner, “the affair will be thoroughly investigated.” “I expected no less, Mr. Lomas.” And Sir Brian ceremoniously but briskly took his leave. After which, “Good Gad!” said Lomas again, and stared at Reggie Fortune. “Nice restful companion, isn’t he? Yes. The sort of fellow that has made Old England great.” “Oh, I don’t mind him. He could be dealt with. But he’s right, confound him. The case is a most unholy mess.” “Well, well,” said Reggie placidly. “You must rub it out, dear, and do it again.” “If everybody had tried to muddle it they couldn’t have done worse.”