Simon was quite unable to control his violent start, and his face turned whiter. "I--I didn't say I did," he stammered. "Well," said Ned, "I admit I wasn't there to hear you, but I know Carrington made you put your foot fairly in it just by way of helping him to size you up, and he got your size right enough too." "Then----" began Simon, and stopped and changed it into: "What does Carrington suspect--er--accuse me of?" Ned stared at him for several seconds without speaking, and this procedure seemed to disconcert the lawyer more than anything had done yet. "What--what does Carrington mean?" he repeated. "He means you've lied, and he believes Miss Farmond, and he believes Sir Malcolm, and he believes me, and he puts you down as a pretty bad egg. What did you expect to be accused of?" Simon could no more hide his relief to-night than he could hide his fears. "Only of what you have told me--only of course of what you say! But I can explain. In good time I can explain." It was at that moment that the door opened sharply and the start the lawyer gave showed the state of his nerves after Mr. Cromarty's handling. Mary MacLean stood in the doorway, her face twitching. "What's the matter?" snapped her master. "Please, sir, there are men in the garden!" she cried. The lawyer leapt to his feet. "Men in the garden!" he cried, and there was a note in his voice which startled even tough Ned Cromarty. "What are they doing?" "I don't know, sir. It sounded almost as if they was digging." Simon swayed for an instant and grasped the back of his chair. Then in a muffled voice he muttered: "I'm going to see!" He had scarcely made a step towards the door when Cromarty was on his feet too. "Steady!" he cried. "Get out there, and shut the door!" The towering form and formidable voice sent Mary out with a shut door between them almost as the command was off his tongue. A couple of strides and he had got the lawyer by the shoulder and pulled him back. "Sit down!" he commanded. Simon turned on him with a new expression. The terror had passed away and he stood there now as the sheer beast at bay. "Damn you!" he muttered, and turned his back for a moment. The next, his hand rose and simultaneously Ned's arm shot out and got him by the wrist, while the shock of his onslaught drove the man back and down into his chair. Though Simon was tough and stoutly built, he was as a child in the hands of his adversary. A sharp twist of the wrist was followed by an exclamation of pain and the thud of something heavy on the floor. Ned stooped and picked up the globular glass match box that had stood on the table. For a few moments he stared at it in dead silence, balancing it in his hands. It was like a small cannon ball for concentrated weight. Then in a curious voice he asked: "Is this the first time you have used this?"