Soon after noon I strode down the steep street of the quiet little watering-place so beloved by Dickens. On that February day it was very chilly, and very deserted, but gaining the parade I crossed the footbridge, and, continuing past the Grand Hotel, went along the top of the cliffs beyond the town, to where stood the late Professor's seaside red-brick home. In the small but pretty drawing-room I was greeted by Ethelwynn and her lover, who were standing talking near the fire as I entered. The girl looked delightfully sweet in a pale blue blouse and dark brown skirt, her splendid hair dressed in a style that suited her admirably, while he, on his part, presented the appearance of the typical clean-limbed, well-bred Englishman. They were, indeed, a handsome pair. "It's very good of you, Mr. Holford, to come down so quickly!" the girl exclaimed, as she took my hand. "Leonard wants to have a serious chat with you." And yet this was the girl who was privy to her father's tragic end. Was it possible that her lover also knew the truth? Langton invited me to a chair, and commenced by haltingly apologising for bringing me down from London. "We, however, considered it necessary," he went on; "necessary in the interests of us all that there should exist a clear and perfect understanding between us." "In what manner?" I asked Langton. "Well," he said, "it has come to our knowledge that you have been relating a most extraordinary story regarding Ethelwynn's father. You declare that he died under suspicious circumstances." "Whatever I've said is the truth--the plain and absolute truth," I declared openly. "Mr. Kirk introduced me into the house in Sussex Place, where I saw the poor Professor lying dead in his laboratory." "Ah!" cried the girl quickly, her manner suddenly changing. "Then you are a friend of Kirk's--not of my father?" "That is so," I admitted. "And in Kirk's company I saw your father lying dead through violence." "And you've dared to put forward this story as an absolute fact!" Langton cried. "Do you happen to know who Kershaw Kirk really is?" "No; I'd very much like to know," I said, full of anxiety. "Who is he?" "If you knew, you would, I think, have hesitated before you went to the police with such a fairy tale as yours." "It is no fairy tale, Mr. Langton!" I declared very earnestly. "I have with my own eyes seen the Professor lying dead." "But you forget that my father went to Edinburgh on that night, and wired me from there next day," the girl pointed out, fixing her splendid eyes on mine with unwavering gaze. "I forget no point of the remarkable affair, Miss Greer," I said quietly. "As a matter of fact, I followed the man believed to be your father to Scotland." "You--you followed him?" gasped Langton, while the girl's cheeks grew paler. "Did you see him? Did you speak with him?"