“Half-an-hour before. He was terribly disappointed; he had gone to see about this partnership but he had a feeling that he’d been tricked, for nothing came of it. He had arranged to see me, and I waited up for him… he was crossing the road to his own house when he was arrested.” “Did he wear a blue suit or a grey suit?” “A blue suit,” she said quickly. Mr. Reeder looked at the ceiling. “Of course he wore a blue suit; otherwise--um…” He scratched his chin irritably. “It was a cold night, too. I can’t understand until I have seen his--um--trousers.” She looked at him in bewilderment, a little fearfully. And then suddenly Mr. Reeder gave one of his rare smiles and dropped a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I shouldn’t be too worried if I were you,” he said, with a kindly look in his eyes. “You’ve got quite a number of good friends, and you will find Mr. Desboyne will do a lot to help your Johnny.” She shook her head. “Clive doesn’t like Johnny,” she said. “That I can well believe,” said Mr. Reeder good-humouredly. “Nevertheless, unless I’m a bad prophet, you will find Mr. Desboyne the one person who can clear up this--um--unpleasantness.” “But who was the man who was killed? It’s all so terribly unreal to me. Attymar was his name, wasn’t it? Johnny didn’t know anybody named Attymar. At least, he didn’t tell me so. I’m absolutely stunned by this news, Mr. Reeder. I can’t realize its gravity. It seems just a stupid joke that somebody’s played on us. Johnny couldn’t do harm to any man.” “I’m sure he couldn’t,” said Mr. Reeder soothingly, but that meant nothing. CHAPTER V Mr. Reeder’s housekeeper had, since his arrival, behaved with a certain secretiveness which could only mean that she had something important to communicate. It was after he had seen the girl to her house that he learned what the mystery was all about. “The young gentleman who came to see you last night,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve put him in the waiting-room.” “Mr. Desboyne?” “That’s the name,” she nodded. “He said he wouldn’t go until he’d seen you.” In a few seconds Clive Desboyne was shown in. “I’ve only just heard about Southers’ arrest--it’s monstrous! And I was being so beastly about him to-night. Mr. Reeder, I’ll spend all the money you want to get this young man out of his trouble. My God, it’s awful for Anna!” Mr. Reeder pulled at his long nose and said he thought it was rather unpleasant. “And,” he added, “for everybody.” “They say this man Ligsey is also dead. If I’d had any sense I’d have brought over the note I had of our conversation.” “I could call up for it in the morning,” said Mr. Reeder, and his voice was surprisingly brisk. Mr. Desboyne gazed at him in startled astonishment. It was as though this weary man with the drooping lips and tired eyes had suddenly received a great mental tonic. “You made notes? Not one man in ten would have thought of that,” said Mr. Reeder. “I thought I was the only person who did it.”