Superintendent Battle Arrives So apprehensive was Lord Caterham of being consulted by George that he spent the whole morning making a tour of his estate. Only the pangs of hunger drew him homeward. He also reflected that by now the worst would surely be over. He sneaked into the house quietly by a small side door. From there he slipped neatly into his sanctum. He flattered himself that his entrance had not been observed, but there he was mistaken. The watchful Tredwell let nothing escape him. He presented himself at the door. “You’ll excuse me, my lord——” “What is it, Tredwell?” “Mr. Lomax, my lord, is anxious to see you in the library as soon as you return.” By this delicate method Tredwell conveyed that Lord Caterham had not yet returned unless he chose to say so. Lord Caterham sighed, and then rose. “I suppose it will have to be done sooner or later. In the library, you say?” “Yes, my lord.” Sighing again, Lord Caterham crossed the wide spaces of his ancestral home, and reached the library door. The door was locked. As he rattled the handle, it was unlocked from inside, opened a little way, and the face of George Lomax appeared, peering out suspiciously. His face changed when he saw who it was. “Ah, Caterham, come in. We were just wondering what had become of you.” Murmuring something vague about duties on the estate, repairs for tenants, Lord Caterham sidled in apologetically. There were two other men in the room. One was Colonel Melrose, the Chief Constable. The other was a squarely built middle-aged man with a face so singularly devoid of expression as to be quite remarkable. “Superintendent Battle arrived half an hour ago,” explained George. “He has been round with Inspector Badgworthy, and seen Dr. Cartwright. He now wants a few facts from us.” They all sat down, after Lord Caterham had greeted Melrose and acknowledged his introduction to Superintendent Battle. “I need hardly tell you, Battle,” said George, “that this is a case in which we must use the utmost discretion.” The superintendent nodded in an offhand manner that rather took Lord Caterham’s fancy. “That will be all right, Mr. Lomax. But no concealments from us. I understand that the dead gentleman was called Count Stanislaus—at least, that that is the name by which the household knew him. Now was that his real name?” “It was not.” “What was his real name?” “Prince Michael of Herzoslovakia.” Battle’s eyes opened just a trifle, otherwise he gave no sign. “And what, if I may ask the question, was the purpose of his visit here? Just pleasure?” “There was a further object, Battle. All this in the strictest confidence of course.” “Yes, yes, Mr. Lomax.” “Colonel Melrose?” “Of course.” “Well, then, Prince Michael was here for the express purpose of meeting Mr. Herman Isaacstein. A loan was to be arranged on certain terms.” “Which were?”