“It does seem like it just now,” agreed Westerham. There was a pause and Westerham was the first to speak again. “As you yourself know full well that I was not here when this business happened, I think that you had better clear the ground by telling me all you know if you wish me to assist you.” Rookley looked at him sharply, but decided that Westerham was right. “I will tell you,” he said. “At about ten o'clock two men called and asked for you. Both of them were dressed rather like sailors, one man being short, the other tall. They were told that you were out. “The tall man, however, said that he had come to see you in response to a letter, and that, as he knew you had a sitting-room, he would be obliged if they would allow him to wait with his friend. “As the men were both quiet and respectable in dress and in manner, they were allowed to do so. “After a little while the taller of the two men went down to the hall and told the porter that he had left his friend upstairs, and that he himself was going out to buy some cigarettes. “The porter was a little surprised, but said nothing, but when half an hour had gone by he grew uneasy and going upstairs to the sitting-room discovered what you have just seen. “The body was not touched, and we were immediately summoned by the police at Bow Street. The police-surgeon happened to be absent, and has not yet called. That accounts for the body being still undisturbed. We had, as a matter of fact, only been here a few minutes when you yourself arrived.” “Is that all?” asked Westerham. “That's all that I can tell you up to the present,” said the detective. “What were the men like?” asked Westerham, though he had by this time little doubt as to the identity of the murderer, just as he knew well enough the identity of the victim. “The murdered man,” said the detective, “you have seen yourself. The murderer—for there is not the slightest doubt that the taller of the two men stabbed the other—is described as being spare in build and black-bearded.” “Black-bearded?” said Westerham, wonderingly. Rookley looked at him sharply. “You have suspicions?” he said. “Is there a man without them?” asked Westerham. “Come, come, sir,” urged the detective, “this is not a time for jesting.” “I am not jesting,” said Westerham, and relapsed into silence. “Don't you think,” asked the detective after a little while, “it would be better if you were to make a clean breast of everything?” “I tell you frankly, Mr. Robinson,” he continued, “that I have changed my opinion about yourself. At first I thought you were a dupe of Melun's, but I was soon convinced that a man so astute as yourself could not possibly have been misled even by that clever scoundrel.