Colwyn brought the car down from the rise into the sleeping village, and a few minutes later he was driving up the winding carriage way between the rows of drooping trees. On the other side of the woods the moat-house came into view. The moonlight gleamed on the high-pitched red roof, and drenched the garden in whiteness, but the mist which rose from the waters of the moat swathed the walls of the house like a cerement. The moon, crouching behind the umbrageous trees of the park, cast a heavy shadow on the lawn, like a giant's hand menacing the home of murder. Late as the hour was, Tufnell was up awaiting their arrival, with a light supper and wine set ready in a small room off the library. Phil had telephoned from Colwyn's rooms to say that he was returning with the detective, and the butler, as he helped them off with their coats, said that rumours of a railway accident had reached the moat-house, causing Miss Heredith much anxiety until she received the telephone message. Colwyn and Phil sat down to supper, with the butler in assiduous attendance. The meal was a slight and silent one. Phil kept a host's courteous eye on his guest's needs, but showed no inclination for conversation, and Colwyn was not the man to talk for talking's sake. When they had finished Phil asked the butler which room Mr. Colwyn was to occupy. "Miss Heredith has had the room next to Sir Philip's prepared, sir." "No doubt you are tired, Mr. Colwyn, and would like to retire," Phil said. "Thank you, I should. I travelled from Scotland last night, and had very little sleep." "In that case you will be glad to go to bed at once. I will show you to your room," said the young man, rising from the table. "Please do not bother," replied Colwyn, noting the worn air and white face of the other. "You look done up yourself." "Miss Heredith was anxious that you should retire as soon as you could, sir, so as to get as much rest as possible after your journey," put in the butler, with the officious solicitude of an old servant. "Then I shall leave you in Tufnell's care," said Phil, holding out his hand as he said good night. He went out of the room, and Colwyn was left with the old butler. "Is it your wish to retire now?" the latter inquired. "I shall be glad to do so, if you will show me to my bedroom." The butler bowed gravely, and escorted Colwyn upstairs to his bedroom. "This is your room, sir. I hope you will be comfortable." "I feel sure that I shall," replied Colwyn, with a glance round the large handsome apartment. "Your dressing-room opens off it, sir." "Thank you. Good night." "Good night, sir." The butler turned hesitatingly towards the door, as though he wished for some excuse to linger, but could think of nothing to justify such a course. He walked out of the room into the passage, and then turned suddenly, the light through the open doorway falling on his sharpened old features and watchful eyes.