“Because they took mine first; and in describing that awful night I mentioned, like the idiot I am, that Deacon had come into my room at a quarter to eleven. You see, he’d asked me the time, and I’d told him: that’s what made me remember. Then later it all came out about the clock in the study, and now every one says the boy put the hands back because he knew he had an alibi. Oh! It’s all a ghastly, horrible mistake!” “It is; and we shan’t mend it by sitting here and talking.” Anthony got to his feet. “By the way, before I go, tell me: what is Mrs. Mainwaring, who is she, that this poor swine don’t see her? If it comes to that, why is she here at all?” Sir Arthur made a wry face. “Why you haven’t seen her I can’t tell. Why she’s staying here is, I’m sorry to say, for the notoriety. Any decent person would have left the house at once. I’m disgusted; I used almost to like the woman. I would have left, but Laura wished me to stay. And she’s so apathetic that she won’t get rid of the Mainwaring.” “I must see the lady,” said Anthony. Sir Arthur looked at him with curiosity, but found no enlightenment. “In fact,” said Anthony, “I must see both ladies.” Sir Arthur looked at him again, with no result. “A last question,” Anthony said: “what—without prejudice—do you think of the man-servant, Robert Belford of the ferret face?” “I wondered whether you’d ask about him,” Sir Arthur said eagerly. “I didn’t like to say anything because I really know nothing against him at all. Never had anything to do with him, in fact. He used to valet John, and would have me, only I don’t use valets. It’s simply that I can’t bear the fellow; his looks are enough to make any one suspicious. And he’s been more furtive than ever—since the—the murder.” “H’m,” grunted Anthony. “It’s really very ungrateful of me,” said Sir Arthur, “to say anything against the man. He was one—or really two—of the witnesses to the fact that I was sitting here in this chair from ten until after—until poor old John was found. But still, joking aside, I have a very real feeling that Mr. Belford at least knows more than he has told.” “H’m. Yes,” Anthony said. “And now for Miss Hoode. Where can I find her?” “I think she’s downstairs somewhere, but I’m not sure. I say, Gethryn, you’re not going to—to cross-examine her, are you? I mean I don’t think she’ll want a lot of talk about——” “No,” Anthony said, crossing the room, “probably she won’t.” Sir Arthur opened his mouth to speak; but was left staring at the closed door. As he shut it behind him, Anthony caught sight of a black-clad figure disappearing round the corner by the stairhead. It was a back he had seen before. It wore an air of stealthy discomfort; and the speed with which it had vanished was in itself suspicious. Anthony laughed. “Belford, my friend,” he thought, “if you _have_ done anything naughty, you’re simply asking to be found out.” He went on and down the stairs. 2