The effect of a couple of large glasses of sloe gin was quickly apparent. Sir Malcolm became decidedly happier and even more confidential. He was considerably taken aback, however, when his host suddenly asked, with a disconcertingly intense glance: "Are you quite sure you are really innocent?" "Innocent!" exclaimed the baronet, leaping out of his chair. "Do you mean to tell me you doubt it? Do you actually believe I am capable of killing a man in cold blood? Especially the honoured head of my own house?" Carrington seemed to suppress a smile. "No," said he, "I don't believe it." "Then, sir," said the baronet haughtily, "kindly do not question my honour!" This time Carrington allowed his smile to appear. "Sit down, Sir Malcolm," he said, "pull yourself together, and listen to a few words." Sir Malcolm looked extremely surprised, but obeyed. "What I am going to say is in the strictest confidence and you must give me your word not to repeat one single thing I tell you." His serious manner evidently impressed the young man. "I give you my word, sir," said he. "Well then, in the first place, I am a detective." For a few seconds Sir Malcolm stared at him in silence and then burst into a hearty laugh. "Good egg, sir!" said he. "Good egg! If I had not finished my sloe gin I should drink to your health!" It was Carrington's turn to look disconcerted. Recovering himself he said with a smile: "You shall have another glass of sloe gin when you have grasped the situation. I assure you I am actually a detective--or, rather, a private enquiry agent." Sir Malcolm shook a knowing head. "My dear fellow," said he, "you can't really pull my leg like that. I can see perfectly well you are a gentleman." "I appreciate the compliment," said Carrington, "but just let me tell you what was in the telegram which has brought you here. It ran--'Come immediately urgent news don't answer please don't delay. Cicely Farmond.'" Sir Malcolm's mouth fell open. "How--how do you know that?" he asked. "Because I wrote it myself. Miss Farmond is quite unaware it was sent." The baronet began to look indignant. "But--er--why the devil, sir----" "Because I am a detective," interrupted Carrington, "and I wished to see you." Sir Malcolm evidently began to grasp the situation at last. "What about?" he asked, and his face was a little paler already. "About this murder. I wanted to satisfy myself that you were--or were not--innocent." "But--er--how?" "By your actions, conversation, and appearance. I am now satisfied, Sir Malcolm." "That I am innocent." "Yes." "Then will this be the end of my--er--painful position?" "So far as your own anxiety goes; yes. You need no longer fear arrest." The first look of relief which had rushed to the young man's face became clouded with a suggestion of chagrin. "But won't people then--er--talk about me any longer?" "I am afraid I can't prevent that--for a little longer."