“No,” replied Bray sharply. “Never mind. I’ll attend to it--” There was a knock at the door. Bray called “Come!” and a slender boy, frail but with a military bearing, entered. “Hello, Walters!” he said, smiling. “What’s up? I-” He stopped suddenly as his eyes fell upon the divan where Fraser-Freer lay. In an instant he was at the dead man’s side. “Stephen!” he cried in anguish. “Who are you?” demanded the inspector--rather rudely, I thought. “It’s the captain’s brother, sir,” put in Walters. “Lieutenant Norman Fraser-Freer, of the Royal Fusiliers.” There fell a silence. “A great calamity, sir--” began Walters to the boy. I have rarely seen any one so overcome as young Fraser-Freer. Watching him, it seemed to me that the affection existing between him and the man on the divan must have been a beautiful thing. He turned away from his brother at last, and Walters sought to give him some idea of what had happened. “You will pardon me, gentlemen,” said the lieutenant. “This has been a terrible shock! I didn’t dream, of course--I just dropped in for a word with--with him. And now--” We said nothing. We let him apologize, as a true Englishman must, for his public display of emotion. “I’m sorry,” Bray remarked in a moment, his eyes still shifting about the room--“especially as England may soon have great need of men like the captain. Now, gentlemen, I want to say this: I am the Chief of the Special Branch at the Yard. This is no ordinary murder. For reasons I can not disclose--and, I may add, for the best interests of the empire--news of the captain’s tragic death must be kept for the present out of the newspapers. I mean, of course, the manner of his going. A mere death notice, you understand--the inference being that it was a natural taking off.” “I understand,” said the lieutenant, as one who knows more than he tells. “Thank you,” said Bray. “I shall leave you to attend to the matter, as far as your family is concerned. You will take charge of the body. As for the rest of you, I forbid you to mention this matter outside.” And now Bray stood looking, with a puzzled air, at me. “You are an American?” he said, and I judged he did not care for Americans. “I am,” I told him. “Know any one at your consulate?” he demanded. Thank heaven, I did! There is an under-secretary there named Watson--I went to college with him. I mentioned him to Bray. “Very good,” said the inspector. “You are free to go. But you must understand that you are an important witness in this case, and if you attempt to leave London you will be locked up.” So I came back to my rooms, horribly entangled in a mystery that is little to my liking. I have been sitting here in my study for some time, going over it again and again. There have been many footsteps on the stairs, many voices in the hall.