“Serious crime, eh? What am I supposed to know about it? Am I supposed to have committed it? Have you got someone waiting behind a screen to take down what I say, or a dictaphone, or some such infernal contraption? What?” Sir Hunter knew perfectly well that none of this was the case and that he was behaving rather childishly, but he was irritated by an entirely extraneous consideration. He was, in sober truth, jealous of the position of power occupied by Marradine, a man considerably junior to him in the Army, a man, furthermore, who had only served for about five minutes in France and that only in a soft “Q” job. Lorne had never actually met him but he had heard of him, and he had heard nothing to his advantage—a precocious young pup (in his “young officer” days), a pusher, a bloody red-tab, and finally, a damned _embusqué_. Sir Hunter would not in the least have objected to being interrogated by a proper detective—he merely objected to Marradine. Sir Leward wisely ignored his visitor’s petulance. “It is in connection with the death of Sir Garth Fratten that I want your help,” he said. Lorne pricked up his ears. “I understand that Sir Garth was about to join your Board—that is the case, isn’t it?” Sir Hunter was all attention now. “That is so, certainly,” he replied. “I invited him to join us on—let me see—the 8th of October. He came to see me and talk things over at my office about three days later. He seemed satisfied by what I was able to tell him but asked for some reports and schedules and said he would let me have his decision in a week or two. I was expecting every day to hear from him, when he suddenly died—a tragic business, what? A great loss to the country and to us.” Sir Hunter shook his head gloomily. “Would you mind telling me why you wanted him to join your Board?” “I should have thought that was obvious enough. Big man in the City, carry great weight, give great confidence to investors, what?” “Then why did your fellow-directors not welcome his appearance?” Sir Hunter stared. “How the devil . . . ? What makes you think they didn’t?” “It is the case that they did not, then?” The Chairman shifted uneasily in his chair. “Now you mention it,” he said at last, “one of the Board wasn’t particularly keen on it—thought Sir Garth might want to run the show—jealousy really, I put it at.” “And that was?” “Lessingham. Able man but liked to have his own way. I don’t doubt that he’d have come round. I broke it to him rather suddenly. My fault, perhaps.” “And Captain Wraile?” “You seem to know all about us, eh? Wraile was willing enough.” “But Lessingham strongly opposed it?” “Well, yes. I suppose he did. I thought he was most unreasonable—most ungrateful to me, too—it isn’t everyone who could get Fratten on to their Board.” “Did Lessingham threaten strong measures if you persisted?” “He threatened to resign.” “He didn’t talk of anything more serious—violence, for instance?”