'I examined Mr. Montagu Babbacombe on three occasions, each time in association with certain colleagues whose names I will mention if desired. The examination was very thorough. And as a result we unanimously agreed that he was emphatically what the insurance people call a "good life." He showed no traces of organic weakness; and as for the heart, in a medical sense, I never met a better one. I may add that I met him on the morning of the day on which, I learn to my surprise, it is stated that he died. I was driving along Stamford Street when he came out of the York Hotel. I stopped and spoke to him--asking him how he felt after his thirty days' sleep. His own words were that he was as "fit as a fiddle and game for anything"; and he looked it. Under anything like normal circumstances it was practically impossible that he could have died on the afternoon of that day of heart disease.' 'In what way,' asked Mr. Howarth, 'is this of interest to us? The connection which certain persons seem desirous of establishing between Mr. Montagu Babbacombe and the late Marquis is one of the purest presumption.' Mr. FitzHoward handed a photograph which he took out of his pocket to Dr. Clinton. 'Doctor, do you know the original of that?' 'I do; it is Mr. Montagu Babbacombe; he gave me a similar one. A capital likeness it is.' 'My lord, do you know the original of that?' Mr. FitzHoward handed on the likeness to the young gentleman. 'I do. It's the portrait of my brother.' 'Thank you. You see, Mr. Howarth, the connection between them is not so shadowy as it seems you'd like us to think; it's recognised by every one but you. And we're still waiting for you to explain how the Marquis of Twickenham came to die of heart disease.' Mr. Howarth looked at Mr. FitzHoward as if he'd have liked to have torn him in pieces. I'm confident that if it hadn't been for all of us being there, there'd have been violence used. 'I'm not a medical man, you--clever fellow.' 'It seems as if you know how to manufacture heart disease to order, anyhow.' 'What the----!' He moved forward so that I thought he was going to strike him; only at the last moment he stopped short and changed his mind. The young gentleman laid his hand on Mr. FitzHoward's shoulder. 'Come, sir; let us not deal in innuendo, if you please. Here comes some one who may be able to give you the information you require.' An old gentleman came into the room. He wore gold spectacles. With the fingers and thumb of one hand he lifted them in their place on his nose as he advanced. 'Sir Gregory, this is very kind of you. Your arrival is most opportune. A rather curious point has arisen with regard to my brother's death. We require your aid for its solution. I believe that you certified that the cause of his death was heart disease.' 'Certainly; the immediate cause. Heart disease of long standing. Your brother always had a weak heart, my lord.'