Sir Arthur flung his arms above his head. “Lies, lies, lies!” His voice rose to a harsh, unnatural scream. “All lies! God rot him! Christ torture his soul in hell! He’s dead! He’s dead! You fool! _I_ know, _I_, _I!_ You know nothing!” His hands seemed to be reaching higher, clawing, as if they would tear holes in heaven. “You fool!” he screamed again. “He’s dead. _I_ know! _I killed him!_ I climbed down and killed him——” Anthony sat down on the edge of the table. “That’ll be all, I think,” he said. The curtains over the alcove at the end of the room parted. From behind them came three men: the first tall and of middle-aged immaculateness, the second an obvious detective-inspector, the third negligible save for the pencil and notebook he carried. Sir Arthur turned, crouching like an animal, to see the invasion. In a flash he whipped round and leapt at Anthony’s throat, his arms outflung, his fingers crooked. Anthony, still sitting, had little time to avoid the rush. He raised a knee sharply. Sir Arthur fell to the floor, where for a time he rolled in agony. The obvious detective-inspector bent over him. There was a click of handcuffs. The immaculate man advanced to the table. “Very good indeed, Gethryn,” he said. “Thanks,” Anthony said. “I suppose you’re satisfied now, Lucas?” “Eminently, Gethryn, eminently!” Mr. Lucas beamed. “Then that’s all right.” Anthony’s tone was heavy. “Now what about young Deacon? Can you unwind the red tape quickly?” Mr. Lucas leant forward. “If you like,” he whispered, “I can arrange for him to get away to-night. It’s all very wrong and most unofficial; but I can manage it. Speak to the chief on the phone and all that sort of thing, you know.” Anthony’s face relaxed into a smile. “Good for you. You might have Deacon told that if he likes I can arrange for the Bear and Key to fix him up for to-night.” “I’ll tell him myself,” said the other. “You’re really rather a wonder, Gethryn! We ought to have you as a sort of super-superintendent. Or you might do well on the stage. At one time just now you almost took me in with that grisly tale and manner of yours. And what a yarn it was, too. Just enough to make that half-crazy devil think he’d killed the wrong man. Enough, I mean, to make him wonder whether you hadn’t got half the tale right and had only gone astray about who actually did the bashing.” Lucas chuckled reminiscently. “I say,” he added, “it was a good thing nobody heard us getting in here through the window. It would’ve spoilt the whole thing. The storm effect helped everything along nicely, though, didn’t it?” “It did,” Anthony said. “I didn’t arrange that, you know.” Mr. Lucas smiled. “No, I suppose not; though I’m so full at the moment of wonder and admiration for the great Colonel Gethryn that if any one told me you had, I don’t know that I should disbelieve ’em.” He turned to look at the prisoner. “God!” he exclaimed. “Look at that!”