“I would do almost anything for you, T. X.,” he said quietly, “the more so since I know how good you were to Grace, but I can't help you in this matter. I hated Kara living, I hate him dead,” he cried, and there was a passion in his voice which was unmistakable; “he was the vilest thing that ever drew the breath of life. There was no villainy too despicable, no cruelty so horrid but that he gloried in it. If ever the devil were incarnate on earth he took the shape and the form of Remington Kara. He died too merciful a death by all accounts. But if there is a God, this man will suffer for his crimes in hell through all eternity.” T. X. looked at him in astonishment. The hate in the man's face took his breath away. Never before had he experienced or witnessed such a vehemence of loathing. “What did Kara do to you?” he demanded. The other looked out of the window. “I am sorry,” he said in a milder tone; “that is my weakness. Some day I will tell you the whole story but for the moment it were better that it were not told. I will tell you this,” he turned round and faced the detective squarely, “Kara tortured and killed my wife.” T. X. said no more. Half way through lunch he returned indirectly to the subject. “Do you know Gathercole?” he asked. T. X. nodded. “I think you asked me that question once before, or perhaps it was somebody else. Yes, I know him, rather an eccentric man with an artificial arm.” “That's the cove,” said T. X. with a little sigh; “he's one of the few men I want to meet just now.” “Why?” “Because he was apparently the last man to see Kara alive.” John Lexman looked at the other with an impatient jerk of his shoulders. “You don't suspect Gathercole, do you?” he asked. “Hardly,” said the other drily; “in the first place the man that committed this murder had two hands and needed them both. No, I only want to ask that gentleman the subject of his conversation. I also want to know who was in the room with Kara when Gathercole went in.” “H'm,” said John Lexman. “Even if I found who the third person was, I am still puzzled as to how they got out and fastened the heavy latch behind them. Now in the old days, Lexman,” he said good humouredly, “you would have made a fine mystery story out of this. How would you have made your man escape?” Lexman thought for a while. “Have you examined the safe!” he asked. “Yes,” said the other. “Was there very much in it?” T. X. looked at him in astonishment. “Just the ordinary books and things. Why do you ask?” “Suppose there were two doors to that safe, one on the outside of the room and one on the inside, would it be possible to pass through the safe and go down the wall?” “I have thought of that,” said T. X.