Wantley singled out at once a large red despatch-box as probably containing what he sought. The key he held in his hand clicked in the lock, and he saw, almost filling up the top compartment, a plain, old-fashioned leather jewel-case which contained more than he expected to find of moment to himself. There, smiling up at him, lay the baby face of Penelope, a miniature which he recognized as one that had been painted to be a surprise gift from Lady Wantley to her husband on their child's second birthday, and which had always stood on Lord Wantley's table. 'She should not have given him that!' was the young man's involuntary thought. Instinctively he averted his eyes from the slender bundle of letters on which the miniature had lain. But, as he lifted them out, together with his cousin's portrait, he saw that they had served to conceal a sheet of note-paper--a piece of old-fashioned, highly-glazed note-paper, deeply edged with black--lying open across the bottom of the jewel-case. As he glanced at the first few words, 'The Queen commands me to request that you----' ah, poor Downing! For a moment Wantley hesitated; he had meant only to withdraw what concerned Penelope, but finally he laid everything--the summons to Balmoral, the letters written in the bold, pointed handwriting Wantley knew so well, the little miniature--back in the jewel-case, which he then locked away in his own room next door. IV The hours that followed he remembered in later life as a man may do a period of delirium, or as a bad dream which he has dreamed innumerable times. He became horribly familiar with the tale he had to tell. Each person interested had to be informed of how he had gone down into the hall, whence, finding two letters for Sir George Downing, he had made his way across the terrace, down the steps leading to the shore, noticing as he went a little pleasure boat which had drifted fast out of sight. Then had to follow the recital of his fruitless knocking at the Beach Room door, followed by his dreadful discovery--the sight of one who had been his honoured guest lying dead, the death-wound above the right ear having been obviously caused by a revolver which had been left on the table, close to where the body had fallen. Wantley also had to describe his return to the villa, the breaking of the awful news to Lady Wantley, the sending for the doctor and for the police from Wyke Regis, followed by a time of long waiting--for, of course, he had allowed no one to touch the body--first for the police (his letter remained for a while unopened at the station), and then for his cousin, Mrs. Robinson, who was fortunately away when the first awful discovery was made.