“I am in your hands, then,” murmured Anthony. “I will commence,” he said, when the gentlemen joined the ladies about an hour later, “by asking you all to regard my account of the tragedy as a strict confidence. It will be obvious to you that this _must_ be so—thank you! My introduction to the Seabourne murder actually occurred about a week before the murder took place.” There were interested murmurs of incredulity. “That may sound strange,” proceeded Mr. Bathurst, “nevertheless it is true. The Crown Prince of Clorania was being blackmailed. He engaged me on the case. Needless to say there was a lady in it. He kept her name secret. It did not take an overwhelming supply of intelligence to see that the trouble was coming from the Westhamptonshire neighbourhood. Now—inasmuch as His Royal Highness had only been in Westhampton _once_—when he attended last year’s Hunt Ball—I made the evening of that Ball my starting-point. At this stage—just as I had reached that conclusion—I received an urgent call from the Crown Prince at Seabourne to the effect that the lady in question had been found murdered. You know where and you know how. He then told me her name—Daphne Carruthers. Mark you—a Westhampton girl.” “One of the best,” ejaculated Sir Matthew, “I remember——” A look from his wife silenced him. Anthony went on. “He also told me that in answer to a suggestion from her, he had come to Seabourne and arranged certain matters very satisfactorily. In short there would be no more chance for successful blackmailing. But Miss Carruthers almost immediately upon leaving him had been most unaccountably murdered! He was badly frightened. Terribly afraid that he would be suspected and that all the story that he had been so zealous to keep secret—would be revealed. Then Miss Daphne resurrected herself and telephoned to him—and I began to get interested. Who was the dead girl and why had she been confused with Daphne Carruthers? There I reached my second point of investigation. I couldn’t honestly blame Bannister for the error of identification. Suit-case—the booking of the room—both tallied. I began to ask myself the meaning of this piece of substitution. Why was the dead girl’s identity hidden? Was it _to shroud Sheila_ or was it _to call attention to Daphne_? Remember all Sheila’s personal belongings had been taken! I hesitated for some time between the two possible theories. Then I came to a decision. There was little doubt that the suit-case had been stolen from the ‘Cassandra’ Hotel—the question was _when_? I was able to find out from the luggage porter at the hotel that although the case had gone on to the luggage-waggon on Wednesday evening—on Thursday morning it was not there. Now consider this. I learned that the telephone-message booking a room at the ‘Lauderdale’ for Miss Carruthers had come through at ten-fifty on Wednesday night. Doesn’t that strike you as being very late? Wouldn’t you expect a