The Superintendent had not been wrong in saying that Brian Desmond was driven fairly frantic by his cousin's murder, for the agony of the night and day was still visible on his face when he met the detectives in his own motor-car at the station. "Thank God you've come at last, Mr. Narkom!" he said as they drove off. "And if only the Yard had acted more quickly I believe this horrid tragedy might have been averted. I don't care what it costs me--every coin I have in the world, if necessary--but this appalling mystery must be cleared up. I want the murderer of my cousin brought to justice. Justice? Yes, but vengeance, too. Let me but get my hands on the brute, and I'll save the law any further trouble." "I quite understand your feelings, my dear Mr. Desmond," said Cleek, quietly, "but suppose you give the law a chance first. I have had only a sketchy outline of the case from Mr. Narkom. We had no time for more, so, if you will give me full details, it will perhaps facilitate matters. Tell me just when, where, and under what circumstances, the murder took place." "I can only tell you the story just as Lady Beryl, my wife, and Estelle told it to me, Mr. Headland. I was not in the house at the time, more's the pity." "That is just what I want. But, before you start, who is Estelle?" "Estelle Jardine, an orphan protégée and companion to my wife, a dear little girl whom my wife found being worked to death in some sweatshop just before we were married. She sent her away till her health was fully restored, and she has lived with us ever since." "A kindly act few women would perform," commented Cleek. "Lady Beryl must be a good woman." "She is. She is an angel, and as clever as she is good," said her husband, his whole tragic face lighting up with tenderness. "Just now Estelle seems more upset than Beryl, as a matter of fact. Still, that isn't to be wondered at, is it, considering that it was she who found my poor cousin. The shock has nearly turned her brain. It seems, as far as I can make out, that Elton retired to the library after lunch, as usual, to go through my correspondence, or any of Beryl's that needed his attention. The safe in the library was set for five o'clock, when I am usually home myself, and when, too, I lock away any surplus money I have brought home with me, in case my wife needs it at bridge. You see, one of her fads--if you like to call it so--is to pay her scores with ready money. There are no checks or I.O.U.'s flying around at her parties." "A good plan, too," put in Mr. Narkom. "Well, anyway, Elton retired into the library, and Beryl went up to her room for an hour's rest. She had a headache, she says." "And Miss Jardine?" asked Cleek. "What became of her?" "She remained with my wife, and sat at her side, reading, until Beryl went to sleep. She was still there, but asleep herself, poor youngster, when Beryl woke. About four o'clock, as near as I can make out."