"You haven't heard my news yet," interrupted Marsden. "I'm almost ashamed to confess it, but the fact remains that we've allowed Medwin to slip through our fingers." Colin stared at him incredulously. "Medwin escaped!" he exclaimed. "If you like to put it that way. He has escaped being sent for trial, anyhow. At the present moment he's lying in the mortuary at the Kensington Police Station." With a faint cry of horror Nancy caught hold of Colin's hand. "It was all my fault," continued Marsden. "I ought to have made certain of him before we left London. It never occurred to me he'd play us a dirty trick like this." "What do you mean?" broke in Colin. "When I left him he was tied up on the sofa. How on earth----" "Well, the servants came back and untied him," said Marsden curtly. "He invented some cock-and-bull story about having been attacked by a couple of burglars, and then sent them down to the kitchen and locked himself in his study. As soon as I got back to London I telephoned through to Kensington and gave instructions for his arrest, but by that time it was too late. They found him sitting dead in his chair, with a letter which he had just written lying on the table beside him. He had swallowed enough poison to kill half a dozen people." There was a brief silence. "I see now," said Colin slowly. "He told me he knew when he was beaten, and that's evidently what he meant." He paused. "And the letter?" he asked. Marsden put his hand in his pocket and produced a large square envelope. "The letter was my chief reason for coming down here. As a matter of fact, it was addressed to you, but under the circumstances I've taken the liberty of opening it." He presented the envelope to Colin, who, after glancing unbelievingly at his own name, pulled out and unfolded its contents. "3 ALBERT TERRACE, "KENSINGTON. "My dear Gray,--You will probably be surprised at receiving a letter from me, but you must put it down to the whim of a dying man. "The truth is, I feel that I owe an apology both to you and to Miss Seymour. "I will make no attempt to defend my conduct. I frankly admit that it justifies practically every one of the uncomplimentary epithets which you hurled at me in the course of your dramatic visit. "The only accusation against which I must enter a protest is that either Fenton or I was in any way concerned with the murder of my old friend and client, the late Professor Carter. On this point you are entirely mistaken. It was the work of that senseless ruffian Cooper, whom we had employed to assist us in breaking into the Red Lodge when we found it necessary to examine the Professor's papers. I sincerely hope that this information will be of some assistance in bringing him to the gallows.