"Mr. Headland must be left to draw his own conclusions, Hubert," she said, somewhat sharply. "After all, it may be someone else, and I cannot bear to accuse people behind their backs. Let us leave the matter till Mr. Headland has been up to the house. Don't you think so yourself, Mr. Headland?" "Right you are," said Cleek with a smile and a nod. "I quite appreciate your feelings in the matter, Miss Gwynne. And, I say, Mr. Narkom," looking at his watch, "if I'm going to get up the river to-day, and get back in town in time to dress for the theatre, don't yer know, I think I had better come right away and have a peep at this fascinating young murderess of yours. So if Miss Gwynne has no objection to my going on with the case, we'd better be moving." Miss Gwynne was all eagerness to "get on with the case," despite the report of her desire for letting things go. "Oh, dear no, Mr. Headland. Please come right along now," she said, quickly. "It was only my foolish fear of scandal, and perhaps pity for one of whom my dear mother was so fond, that has caused me to raise even a slight objection. We are quite close, and in Mr. Narkom's car it would not take ten minutes." "Good," said Cleek, stooping suddenly to retie his shoelace close beside the chair where Mr. Montelet stood, waiting for his companions to move. "Go on and tell Lennard to get his engine going, Mr. Narkom. I want to get up the river some time to-day, and the quicker I get through this blessed report of mine the better." Two minutes later the limousine was racing away in the golden sunshine, carrying its passengers to the scene of the mysterious death; and Cleek was again stooping to retie another shoelace, which apparently was giving him a lot of trouble. CHAPTER XXIV "THE FIRE THAT SLAYS IN THE DARK" A swift run of about fifteen minutes brought them to the residence of the Montelet family. It was a fine place standing in spacious and well-kept grounds, and by the involuntary upward look of young Montelet, as they swept round past one of the wings, Cleek knew that this must contain the ill-fated gallery wherein had reposed the "Eye of Ashtaroth." In that brief second his trained eye had noted the bare wall with its clear thirty-foot drop from the nearest barred windows, and that the sharply pointed roof and entire absence of chimney precluded any possibility of either thief or murderer entering from the outside. But he made no comment, and two minutes later found him being introduced to the late Lady Montelet's French companion, Marie Vaudrot. She was short and petite, with dark, velvety brown eyes, which glanced in mute question from one face to the other, and betrayed to Cleek that she was in deadly fear of the discovery of some secret. What secret it would be his business to find out.