“Let us suppose,” Bray went on, “that last Thursday evening at half after six you called on your brother in his rooms at Adelphi Terrace. There was an argument about money. You became enraged. You saw him and him alone between you and the fortune you needed so badly. Then--I am only supposing--you noticed on his table an odd knife he had brought from India--safer--more silent--than a gun. You seized it--” “Why suppose?” the boy broke in. “I’m not trying to conceal anything. You’re right--I did it! I killed my brother! Now let us get the whole business over as soon as may be.” Into the face of Inspector Bray there came at that moment a look that has puzzling me ever since--a look that has recurred to my mind again and again,--in the stress and storm of this eventful day. It was only too evident that this confession came to him as a shock. I presume so easy a victory seemed hollow to him; he was wishing the boy had put up a fight. Policemen are probably like that. “My boy,” he said, “I am sorry for you. My course is clear. If you will go with one of my men--” It was at this point that the door of the inspector’s room opened and Colonel Hughes, cool and smiling, walked in. Bray chuckled at sight of the military man. “Ah, Colonel,” he cried, “you make a good entrance! This morning, when I discovered that I had the honor of having you associated with me in the search for the captain’s murderer, you were foolish enough to make a little wager--” “I remember,” Hughes answered. “A scarab pin against--a Homburg hat.” “Precisely,” said Bray. “You wagered that you, and not I, would discover the guilty man. Well, Colonel, you owe me a scarab. Lieutenant Norman Fraser-Freer has just told me that he killed his brother, and I was on the point of taking down his full confession.” “Indeed!” replied Hughes calmly. “Interesting--most interesting! But before we consider the wager lost--before you force the lieutenant to confess in full--I should like the floor.” “Certainly,” smiled Bray. “When you were kind enough to let me have two of your men this morning,” said Hughes, “I told you I contemplated the arrest of a lady. I have brought that lady to Scotland Yard with me.” He stepped to the door, opened it and beckoned. A tall, blonde handsome woman of about thirty-five entered; and instantly to my nostrils came the pronounced odor of lilacs. “Allow me, Inspector,” went on the colonel, “to introduce to you the Countess Sophie de Graf, late of Berlin, late of Delhi and Rangoon, now of 17 Leitrim Grove, Battersea Park Road.” The woman faced Bray; and there was a terrified, hunted look in her eyes. “You are the inspector?” she asked. “I am,” said Bray. “And a man--I can see that,” she went on, her flashing angrily at Hughes. “I appeal to you to protect me from the brutal questioning of this--this fiend.”