"Ideas? Oh, several," was his grim answer as, having unrolled the paper, he read its contents. "Shall be able to tell you more when I know to whom this unsettled bridge score belongs. And, also, I've got a dim idea that the firm of Desmond & Co. was in danger of going into bankruptcy a few days ago. Merely a whisper, but----" "Good Lord, man! Then, in that case, Mr. Desmond----" "May have nothing whatever to do with the matter!" Cleek gave back quickly, as the sound of footsteps rang in the hall above, and down the stairway came Lady Beryl Desmond, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was followed by her husband and a timid-looking little woman, whom Cleek did not need to be told was Estelle Jardine. After the formal introduction Lady Beryl led the way into the library, wherein stood the time-lock safe. On the threshold of the door, however, she turned to the girl, and her voice softened. "Estelle, there is no need for you to come in here, _petite_. Go back to your room. I am sure you are not wanted." She flashed a look of interrogation at Mr. Narkom, though it was Cleek who took it upon himself to answer her, in rough, uncouth tones that made even Brian Desmond stare at him in dismay and wonder if he could have been mistaken in thinking the man a gentleman. "Heaven bless your ladyship, but I don't see any reason to keep either of you ladies. I'll just poke about a bit, and then leave things till morning. In the night all cats are gray," and he gave an inane giggle, for which Mr. Narkom could have cheerfully shaken him, even though he realized that such behaviour was part of the game his ally knew so well how to play. The door closed upon the two women, and Cleek, in the same dull, uncouth fashion, concentrated his attention on the time-lock safe. Presently he switched round on Mr. Desmond, who was watching him anxiously, as his fingers darted over the mechanism, and he patted the immovable dial with something almost like affection. A curious smile looped up one side of his face. "Mr. Desmond," he said, speaking with excitement, "I have now set your safe to open at one o'clock to-morrow. I pray that three hours before that time the riddle may be solved. Now show me the room where the dead man lies." Desmond at once led the way to a room down the corridor, and a word from Mr. Narkom to the two constables on guard was sufficient to allow the door to be unlocked. In silence the three men filed in. There was a sort of bier upon which the body lay, and they looked down upon it reverently. That Elton Carlyle's death had been attended with awful agony was only too apparent, and yet about the body still lingered the unmistakably sweet odour of chloroform.