“Kennedy, his confederate,” he went on, “was, as I said this afternoon, a man to be pitied. His mother was a moral leper, a woman of no worth, the merest chattel.” Dr. Ingham’s face had gone white and tense, his eyes glowed like red coals, but J.G. Reeder, sitting there with his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, his cigarette hanging limply from his lower lip, continued as though he had the fullest approval of the company. “Kennedy was really the brain of the gang, if you can call it a brain, the confidence man with some sort of college education. He married Pizarro’s daughter, who was not a nice young lady. He was, I think, her fourth lover before he married her--if they were married at all…” “Take that back, you damned liar!” The woman was on her feet, glowering down at him, her shrill voice almost a scream. “You liar, you beast!” “Shut up!” It was Dr. Ingham’s voice--harsh, commanding. But the injunction came too late. One of Mr. Reeder’s hands had come out from his pocket and it held an automatic of heavy calibre. He came to his feet so quickly that they were unprepared for the manœuvre. Mr. Reeder pushed the chair behind, and leant back against the wall. Thomas, the footman, had come in running, but stopped now at the sight of the pistol. Mr. Reeder addressed him: “I’m afraid I hurt you Thursday night,” he said, pleasantly. “A pellet from an air pistol can be very painful. I owe you an apology--I intended it to be for your friend.” He nodded towards the butler. “It was very stupid of you, Dr. Ingham, to allow your two men to come to London, and it led to very unpleasant consequences. I saw the dead man to-day. Rather a powerful looking fellow named Gelpin. The knuckles of his hand were bruised. I presume that, in an unguarded moment, you went too near to him without your body-guard.” He reached one of the long windows, and with a quick movement of his hand he drew the curtain aside. The window was open. The military looking man who had accompanied him from London climbed through. Then followed the three who had followed Mr. Reeder to the house. Dr. Ingham stood paralysed to inaction. Suddenly he turned and darted towards the small door in a corner of the room. Mr. Reeder’s pistol exploded and the panel of the door split noisily. Ingham stood stock still--a pitiable, panic-stricken thing, and he came staggering back. “It wasn’t my idea, Reeder,” he said. “I will tell you everything. I can prove I had nothing to do with it. They are all safe, all of them.” Stooping, almost beneath his feet he turned back the heavy carpet, and Reeder saw a large stone flag in which was inserted a heavy metal ring. “They are all alive… every one of them. I shot Gelpin in self defence. He would have killed me if I hadn’t killed him.” “And Litnoff?” asked Mr. Reeder, almost good humouredly. Dr. Ingham was silent. * * * * * * Mr. Reeder wrote in his case book: