“Couldn’t help hearing something of what she said,” he volunteered semi-apologetically, “hope it doesn’t spell trouble for you.” Bannister’s eyes glinted through his glasses but before he could reply a tallish man with a brisk step had crossed the grass-plot and reached his chair. “Good evening, sir,” he said somewhat deferentially, “may I have just a few words with you in private?” Bannister glanced at him keenly and detected at once from the grim expression on his face that it was no petty trifle that had prompted this unexpected visit. He rose from his chair quietly. The Sergeant motioned him on one side and they withdrew about a dozen paces. “I’m Sergeant Godfrey, sir, of the County Police and firstly I must ask you to excuse this disturbance I’m causing you. But the fact is I had the tip that the famous Chief-Inspector Bannister was staying in Seabourne and I’ve come to him for help.” He dropped his voice to a very low tone and almost whispered to the Inspector. The latter started suddenly. “_Murder_—are you sure, Godfrey?” “Not a doubt about it, sir, as far as I can see. Or any of the others for that matter. Let me tell you the facts of the case,” he supplemented eagerly. Scarcely waiting for the Inspector’s assent he embarked impetuously upon his narrative. “At twenty minutes past two this afternoon, we received a ’phone message at the station, asking us to proceed at once to Mr. Ronald Branston’s dental surgery. Mr. Branston, I may tell you, is a dental surgeon who has resided in Seabourne about three years. His place is at the corner of Coolwater Avenue—in the best and most secluded part of the town—quite a ‘posh’ dentist’s—I can assure you—Mr. Branston himself was speaking on the ’phone. All he said was ‘Come at once.’ Constable Stannard went up and what he found when he got there made him immediately send for me. Mr. Branston’s story was as follows. A young lady entered his operating room about two o’clock this afternoon for an extraction. He gave her an ordinary local anæsthetic and according to what he says took out the tooth very smoothly and comfortably. He handed his patient a tumbler of water and left her in the chair for a few moments to recover. His reason for so doing he explains like this. At half-past two another customer of his was calling for a set of artificial teeth that he had promised should be ready at that time. His work-room, you must understand is about 12 yards away from his surgery—just across a landing. He was anxious to make sure, he says, that these teeth were thoroughly satisfactory and he admits that he may have been in the work-room a matter of seven or eight minutes. When he tried to leave—he found he was bolted in! A brass bolt on the outside of the work-room door had been slipped—to imprison him. For a few moments he scarcely realised what had happened—he shook the door thinking the catch or something had gone wrong and that it might perhaps open under pressure. But it was fastened securely.