Leslie’s eyes flashed and for a moment it seemed as if Kean’s admonitions were to go for naught, then he controlled himself with an effort. “I was annoyed and wanted to walk it off.” “What had happened to upset you?” “I had had a difference of opinion with Lady Cynthia. We had been going for a walk together, but, owing to this, we parted, rather suddenly. I’d got the walk in my mind, I suppose, so when that happened I just went on by myself and tried to walk my temper off.” “You are engaged to Lady Cynthia Bell, I believe?” “Yes.” “Was the difference of opinion you mentioned just now due to attentions you had been paying to another lady? Mrs. Draycott, for instance?” Leslie stared blankly at his interrogator, a dark flush slowly mounting to his forehead. “Good Lord, no!” he ejaculated. “You say that you tried to walk off your anger. Was that anger directed against anybody in particular?” “I was annoyed with Lady Cynthia at first, in the way one is annoyed with any one one has had an argument with. But after that I was angry, principally, with myself for being such an ass as to quarrel.” “There was no third person involved either in the quarrel or in your thoughts afterwards?” “Of course not. Who should there be?” “You are sure that you did not go back to the farm after leaving Lady Cynthia Bell for the purpose of keeping an appointment you had made with the deceased?” Fayre heard the sharp hiss of Kean’s breath between his teeth, followed by a whisper: “Then they have got something up their sleeves, after all.” Leslie, after the first blank stare of astonishment, flushed with anger as he realized the full force of the insinuation. “Of course not,” he said curtly. “I have told you that I didn’t know Mrs. Draycott.” “You are certain that you did not meet Mrs. Draycott at all that evening?” “I never saw Mrs. Draycott in my life until I found her body at the farm.” “Thank you, Mr. Leslie. Sergeant Brace!” Sergeant Brace took his stand, very erect and soldierly in his blue uniform. “On the day after the murder you visited Mr. Leslie’s farm, I believe.” “I went to the farm on Tuesday, the twenty-fourth, in company with Police-Constable Collins, and made a thorough search of the premises. In a drawer in Mr. Leslie’s bedroom I found a Webley Service revolver, one chamber of which had been discharged. The other chambers were loaded and the gun had not been cleaned since it had last been fired.” “You have the bullet which killed Mrs. Draycott?” Brace held out his hand and displayed a bullet lying in the palm. “Does it correspond with those used in the weapon you found at the farm?” “It does.” “You have the revolver in court?” Police-Constable Collins stepped forward and handed a heavy Service revolver to the Coroner. “Thank you. Call Mr. Leslie.” Leslie’s expression was one of blank consternation. “Do you recognize this, Mr. Leslie?” Leslie examined the revolver.