"Mad like Hamlet, south-sou'west," rejoined the other in a vexed tone; "unless he is in league with that Jadby bounder, whom he knew in the South Seas, I don't know what he means by backing out." "But surely you don't suspect Jadby?" asked Ned, startled. "Why not? He was at Mrs. Rover's ball." "Nonsense. She doesn't know him!" "Remember the jewel robberies," said Prelice dryly; "a great number of people unknown to host or hostess were at that ball." "But Jadby!" Shepworth bit his fingers perplexedly. "You can't suspect him? He came and saw me, and then went away. It was a woman whom Agstone brought in. She must have killed Agstone." Prelice shrugged his shoulders, and sauntered about the room. "Perhaps!" he remarked carelessly, sauntering about the room. "I certainly have no reason to suspect Jadby, save that he was at the ball." "How do you know?" "He was one of the crowd that rushed in to see you insensible, and he wore a domino and mask, as did the rest of them." "Then how did you spot him?" "He unmasked." "That shows his innocence," declared Shepworth quickly, "for if he had come to the ball to slip down and murder Agstone, he would not have revealed himself." "Hum! Hum! Perhaps not." Prelice threw himself into a chair. "However, I shall keep an eye on Jadby." "Then you are still searching into the case?" "Into both cases," corrected the other, lighting a cigar; "I want to learn who killed Lanwin, and who murdered Agstone." "Out of friendship for me," cried Shepworth, grasping his chum's hand. "You are a brick, Dorry." Prelice returned the grasp, but blushed a trifle. He knew that love for Mona prompted the desire to search, as much as friendship for the man before him. If he could only understand Shepworth's attitude towards the girl and towards Mrs. Rover! Again it was on the tip of his tongue to ask a leading question, but he suppressed the desire, and kept to his earlier resolution to see the lady in the flat overhead. "By the way," said Prelice carelessly, "have you seen Miss Chent?" "No," answered Shepworth rather ruefully. "I wish I could have seen her, but Bruge hurried me away from the Court to keep me as a kind of state prisoner here. However, Mona wrote me a short note thanking me for all I had done, and said that she was going down to Lanwin Grange." "But if that belongs to Jadby----" "The will isn't proved yet," interrupted the barrister quickly, "and until it is, Mr. Martaban thinks Mona should stop at the Grange." "Mr. Martaban?" "The late Sir Oliver's lawyer--a kind, clever old chap. He has taken Mona down to the Grange; and Mrs. Blexey, who is devoted to her, will look after the poor girl until I am free to visit her." "You'll go down, of course," said Prelice nervously. "Oh yes; as soon as the inquest is over and Bruge sets me free. I do not see how I can be arrested. But meanwhile, Dorry, you could do me a great favour?" Prelice raised his eyes. "What is that?"