"I know; but he needn't get so infernally savage because she won't accept him. He looked at me in a positively murderous way at lunch to-day." "So you noticed that?" "Yes--and I saw that you noticed it, too." "Listen," I said. "Leaving Hulme out of the question, there is an altogether more mysterious business afoot." And I told him of the episode of the previous night. He smoked stolidly whilst I spoke, frowning the while; then: "Old chap," he said, "I begin to have a sort of glimmering of intelligence. I believe I am threatened with an idea! But it's such an utterly fantastic hybrid that I dare not name it--yet." He asked me several questions respecting what I had seen, and my replies appeared to confirm whatever suspicion was gathering in his mind. We saw little enough sport, but came in later than anyone. During dinner there was an odd incident. Lorian said: "Colonel, d'you mind my taking a picture of the Riddle?" "Eh!" said the Colonel. "What for? Your father made a drawing of it." "Yes, I know," replied Lorian. "I mean a photograph." "Well," mused the Colonel, "I don't know that there can be much objection, since it has been copied once. But have you got a camera here?" "Ah--no," said my friend thoughtfully, "I haven't. Can anybody lend me one?" Apparently no one could. "If you care to drive over to Dr. Mason's after dinner," said our host, "he will lend you one. He has several." Lorian said he would, and I volunteered to accompany him. Accordingly the Colonel's high dogcart was prepared; and beneath a perfect moon, swimming in a fleckless sky which gave no hint of the storm to come, we set off for the doctor's. My friend's manoeuvres were a constant source of surprise to me. However, I allowed him to know his own business best, and employed my mind with speculations respecting this mystery, what time the Colonel's spirited grey whisked us along the dusty roads. We had just wheeled around Dr. Mason's drive, when the fact broke in upon my musings that a Stygian darkness had descended upon the night, as though the moon had been snuffed, candle-wise. "Devil of a storm brewing," said Lorian. "Funny how the weather changes at night." Two minutes after entering the doctor's cosy study, down came the rain. "Now we're in for it!" said Mason. "I'll send Wilkins to run the dogcart into the stable until it blows over." The storm proved to be a severe one; and long past midnight, despite the doctor's hospitable attempts to detain us, we set off for Ragstaff Park. "We can put up the grey ourselves," said Lorian. "I love grooming horses! And by going around into the yard and throwing gravel up at his window, we can awaken Peters without arousing the house. This plan almost startles me by its daring originality. I fear that I detect within myself the symptoms of genius."