"The police!" exclaimed Mark. "Good heavens, I hope you haven't been sending out prussic acid in mistake for magnesia?" "It's worse than that," said Colin cheerfully. "However, if you hang on tight to your chair and don't interrupt I think you may be just able to bear it." He paused. "Joking aside, Mark," he added more seriously, "we seem to have struck something really ugly in the way of trouble, and I want your opinion and advice pretty badly." At the sudden change in his voice Mark sobered down instantly. "Well, if you mean that, my son," he said, "get on with it at once." "It's chiefly about Nancy's guardian," continued Colin. "You remember him, the chap who came to lunch?" Mark nodded. Going back to their first meeting in Jubilee Place, Colin began very carefully and deliberately to relate everything he knew about Major Fenton, of which Mark was still in ignorance. He described how the man had originally forced his society upon Nancy by pretending to have been acquainted with her father, and how, on discovering who Colin was, he had endeavoured to prejudice her mind against him by inventing that absurd story about a scandal at St. Christopher's Hospital. He went on, step by step, to trace the various developments that had followed--his own inquiries at Scotland Yard, Fenton's abortive proposal to Nancy, his suggestive meeting with "Spike" Cooper outside the public house, and the improvised engagement of Joe Bates in the role of an amateur detective. Having thus cleared the ground, he proceeded to give a curt account of what had taken place on the previous evening. He spoke very quietly and simply, but the details were dramatic enough in themselves without any word-painting, and it was easy to see the profound amazement with which Mark drank in his story. So thunderstruck, indeed, did the latter appear to be that nearly a minute must have elapsed after Colin had finished speaking before he attempted to offer his first comment. "Well, I'm blessed!" he exclaimed. "And they call this a civilized country!" "Oh, it's civilized enough," returned Colin carelessly. "If I hadn't been able to get some bread and milk and a hot bath when I came back I should probably be down with double pneumonia." He lighted another cigarette and leaned inquiringly across the table. "Those are the facts, anyhow, Mark. And now I'll be much obliged if you'll let me know what you make of 'em." Mark took off his spectacles and polished them deliberately with his handkerchief. "There's one thing that's perfectly plain," he said. "The sooner Fenton's in Broadmoor the better for you and Nancy." "You think he's insane then?" Mark received the question with a stare of astonishment. "Insane!" he repeated. "Why, what the devil else can he be?" "You have seen him yourself," persisted Colin. "Did you notice anything the least queer about him?" Mark paused. "No," he said slowly. "Now you come to mention it, I'm hanged if I did."