For Sir Arthur was sitting quietly at the feet of the plain-clothes man. And he was playing a little game with his manacled hands, tracing with both forefingers the intricate pattern of the carpet. Every now and again he would look up at his guard and laugh. It was not a pleasant sound, being childish and yet somehow evil. Anthony looked, then turned away with a shiver. Lucas dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Never mind, Gethryn,” he said, after a moment. “It isn’t your fault.” Anthony shook off the hand. “Damn it, I know that! Only the whole thing is so filthy. It might be said, I know, that I sent That mad. But it wouldn’t be true. He did that himself. Hatred, ingrowing hatred of a better man: that’s the cause.” Lucas was thoughtful. “It complicates things, this madness.” “It does. What’ll happen?” “Usual, I suppose. The case’ll be tried. He’ll be convicted—and sent to Broadmoor, where he’ll die, or recover in a year and be let out to kill some one else. We’re so humane, you know!” Lucas was bitter. “Anyhow, you won’t be bothered any more, except for the trial, at which you’ll figure prominently. Oh, yes! Great glory will be yours, Gethryn. Think what a press you’ll have!” Anthony grunted his disgust. Lucas went on: “Lord! _What_ a stir this is going to make. Millionaire M.P. arrested for murder of Cabinet Minister! It won’t be nice for us at the Yard either. Not at all nice! Getting hold of an innocent man and all that. Police shown the way by amateur!” He groaned. “Never mind, _The Owl_ shall be the first to publish anything. I arranged that before I came down. And then they’ll have that report of yours to get out, too. What envy will tear Fleet street! Of course, that report can’t come out yet, you know. At least, I don’t think so; not before the trial——” Anthony started. “Lucas,” he said, “there’s something we’ve forgotten.” He put a hand up to his hair. “Gad! So we have. Let’s see.” Together they stooped over the prisoner. He looked up at them and cackled. “Rotten business!” Anthony grunted. “Seems almost indecent when the man’s like this.” He put his hand on Sir Arthur’s head. His fingers groped for a moment; then came away. With them came that immaculate head of graying hair. “Wonderful _toupé_!” Lucas stretched out his hands for it. “I’d never have noticed it. And I thought they were always obvious. Well, that’s the last confirmation of your theory, Gethryn.” He peered at Anthony. “Lord! You look worn out, man!” Anthony said heavily: “I am. Think I’ll get back to bed at my pub.” Lucas glanced at his watch. “Yes, do. Get off now: it’s only ten past eleven. Shall——” “What time did you say it was?” “Eleven-ten.” “Gad! I thought I’d been here at least five hours. Only eleven-ten! And I’m sitting here!” Anthony made for the door. Lucas grabbed at his arm. “Here, what’s to do?”