Mr. Parr’s aunt was a faded lady with an absent manner, and she seemed to cause Mr. Parr a considerable amount of anxiety. He scarcely took his eyes from her as she moved about the room, and she hardly spoke before he jumped in to interrupt her, always politely, but always very definitely. The inspector’s supper was set upon a tray; he had just about finished when Jack had knocked at the door. “I hope you’ll excuse our untidiness, Mr.--er----” “Beardmore,” said Jack. “She’ll never remember it,” murmured the inspector. “I can’t keep the place as mother kept it,” she said. “Of course not, of course not, auntie,” said Mr. Parr hurriedly. “A little absent,” he murmured. “Now what did you want to know, Mr. Beardmore?” Jack laughingly excused himself for his call. “The Crimson Circle is such a complicated business that I suspect every new agent to be the central figure,” he said. “Do you think that the arrest of Brabazon is going to help us?” “I don’t know,” replied Parr slowly. “There is just a chance that Brabazon will be a very big help indeed. By the way, I’ve put one of my own men to look after him, and I have given instructions that the jailer is not to go into the cell under any circumstances.” “You’re thinking of Sibly, the sailor, who was poisoned?” Parr nodded. “Don’t you think, Mr. Beardmore, that that was one of the greatest mysteries of all the mysterious Crimson Circle murders?” He asked this question very soberly, but there was a little glint in his eye which Jack did not fail to notice. “You’re laughing. Why? I think it was mysterious, don’t you?” “Very,” said the inspector. “In some respects, and the poisoning of Sibly will, to my mind, be a much more important factor in the eventual capture of the Crimson Circle than is the arrest of our friend Brabazon.” “I wish you wouldn’t talk about crime and criminals,” said his aunt fretfully; “really, John, you are very trying. It may have suited mother----” “Yes, of course, auntie; I’m sorry,” said Parr hurriedly, and when she had left the room, Jack Beardmore’s curiosity got the better of his discretion. “Mother seems to have been rather a paragon,” he smiled, and wondered if he had made a _faux pas_. The answering laugh reassured him. “Yes, rather a paragon; she is not staying with us just now.” “Is she your mother, Mr. Parr?” “No, my grandmother,” said Mr. Parr, and Jack looked at him in astonishment. Chapter XXVIII. A Shot in the Night The inspector must have been nearly fifty, and he made a rapid calculation as to the age of this wonderful grandmother who took an interest in crime, and kept the house tidy. “She must be a wonderful old lady,” he said, “and I suppose she’d even be interested in the Crimson Circle.” “Interested!” Mr. Parr laughed. “If mother was on the track of that gang with the same authority as I have, they would be high and dry in Cannon Street police station to-night. As it is,” he paused, “they are not.”