"They have nothing more direct, sir, than that the body was found close to my cottage, that he had presumably left Braster to see me, and that I was foolish enough to persuade the person, of whom the dead man made these inquiries in Braster, not to come forward at the inquest." "Stop! Stop!" the Duke said irritably. "You did what?" "The young woman of whom he inquired was close at hand when I discovered the body of the man," I said. "She told me about him. I was a little upset, and I suggested that there was no necessity for her to disclose the fact of having seen him." "It was a remarkably foolish thing of you to do," the Duke said. "I am realizing it now, sir," I answered. "Did this person call on you at all?" the Duke asked. "No, sir. You may remember that it was the night of Colonel Ray's lecture. He called to see me on his way back and found me ill. I believe that this person looked in at the window and went away. I saw no more of him alive after this." "You have some idea, I presume, as to his identity?" "I have no definite information, your Grace," I answered. The Duke did not look at me for several moments. "I am afraid," he said, stiffly, "that you may experience some inconvenience from this most ill-advised attempt of yours to suppress evidence which should most certainly have been given at the inquest. However, I have no doubt that your story is true. I have some inquiries now before me from the police station. I will do what I can for you. Good-evening, Ducaine." "Good-evening, sir," I answered. "I am much obliged to you." I walked homewards across the park. The carriage had gone from the private road, and Ray was alone when I entered. It was impossible to tell what had happened from his expression. He sat stretched out in my easy chair, smoking furiously, and his face was impassive. Grooton served us with dinner, and he ate and drank with only a few curt remarks. But afterwards, when I was deep in my work, he suddenly addressed me. "Boy," he then said, "turn round and listen to me." I obeyed him at once. "Listen well," he said, "for I am not given to confidences. Yet I am going to speak to you of the secret places of my life." I laid down the pen which I had been holding between my fingers, and turned my chair. I judged that it was not necessary for me to speak, nor apparently did he think so. "I have been soldiering all my days," he said, "since I was a child almost. It is a glorious life. God knows I have never grudged a single month of it. But when one comes back once more to dwell amongst civilians one realizes that there is another side to life. It is so with me. I am not given to doubts or to asking advice from any man. But the time has come when I have the one and need of the other." He paused, knocked out some ashes from his pipe, and relighted it. "I have loved two women in my life, Guy," he went on slowly. "The first was your mother."