Hilton Fenley spoke savagely. He meant to be offensive, since the innuendo was unmistakable. Apparently Furneaux's remarks had achieved some hypodermic effect. "Oh, yes," was the offhand answer. "I have every reason to believe that Mr. Winter and I will make an arrest without undue loss of time." "I am glad to hear it. Thus far your methods have not inspired the confidence I, as a member of the public, was inclined to repose in Scotland Yard. I am going to my rooms now, and dine at a quarter to eight. About nine o'clock I wish to go into matters thoroughly with Mr. Winter and you. At present, I think it only fair to say that I am not satisfied with the measures, whatever they may be, you have seen fit to adopt." He seemed to await a retort, but none came, so he strode across the hall and hurried up the stairs. Furneaux continued to gaze blankly down the long, straight avenue, nor did he utter a word till a door opened and closed on the first floor in the southeast corner. Then he spoke. "Some people are very hard to please," he said plaintively. Winter beckoned to the footman. "Do you mind asking Mr. Tomlinson if he can come here for a moment?" he said. When the man disappeared he muttered-- "Why are you stroking everybody's fur the wrong way, Charles?" "A useful simile, James. If they resemble cats we may see sparks, and each of those young men has something of the tiger in him." "But things have gone horribly wrong all day--after a highly promising start, too. I don't see that we are any nearer laying hands on a murderer because we have unearthed various little scandals in the lives of Mortimer Fenley's sons. And what game are you playing with this artist, Trenholme?" "The supremely interesting problem just now is the game which he is playing with Robert Fenley. If that young ass attacks him he'll get the licking he wants, and if you're in any doubt about my pronouns----" "Oh, dash you and your pronouns! Here's Tomlinson. Quick! Have you a plan of any sort?" "Three! Three separate lines of attack, each deadly. But there are folk whose mental equipment renders them incapable of understanding plain English. Now, my friend Tomlinson will show you what I mean. I'll ask him a simple question, and he will give you a perfect example of a direct answer. Tomlinson, can you tell me what the extrados of a voussoir is?" "No, Mr. Furneaux, I can not," said the butler, smiling at what he regarded as the little man's humor. "There!" cried Furneaux delightedly. "Ain't I a prophet? No evasions about Tomlinson, are there?" "I think you're cracked," growled Winter, picking up his suitcase. "If I'm to stay here tonight, I shall want a room of some sort. Mr. Tomlinson, can you----" "Share mine," broke in Furneaux. "I'm the quietest sleeper living. Our friend here is sure to have at disposal a room with two beds in it." "The principal guest room is unoccupied," said the butler. "Where is it?" "On the first floor, sir, facing south."