He got up and steadied himself, with one hand on the table, looking at her with a curious expression in his face: in that instant, it reminded her of the expression on that of his wife; it was one of absolute terror. But it was only momentary; he nodded and went out of the room. Celia was following him, when she caught sight of a small part of the detective's figure, just inside the sitting-room; she had forgotten him, but as she went towards him he made a sign as if he understood; indeed, he waved her away. Mr. Jacobs waited until Celia had gone; then he went upstairs softly; in the corridor, near the Marquess's door, he met the doctor, followed by Mrs. Dexter and the nurse, coming out. "I beg your pardon," he said. "I was just going up to have another look at the dressing-room." The doctor inclined his head. "Don't make any more noise than you can help," he said. "We have left the Marquess alone with Lord Heyton; you must do nothing to disturb them." "Quite so; I'll go up presently," said Mr. Jacobs; and he walked down the corridor. But when the others had disappeared, he turned quickly and softly, and entered the dressing-room. With the outer door open an inch, he watched and waited; and in a very few minutes Heyton came out of the sick-room. He was white as death, and he was shaking in every limb. The detective waited until he had heard Heyton's slow and heavy steps descend the stairs, then Mr. Jacobs went down, by the back stairs, to his sitting-room. He dined there, with the Inspector, and entertained--though that is scarcely the word--the amazed and disgusted Mr. Brown by an account of a visit Mr. Jacobs had paid to a big agricultural show in the north. After dinner, he smoked a cigar with an air of quiet and subdued enjoyment proper to the circumstances; and a little later on, he went for a stroll. The night was hot, and Heyton had gone on to the terrace; he had had some more brandy, and was trying to smoke; but his throat and lips were too parched to permit of his doing so, and with an oath, he flung the cigar away. It fell very nearly on Mr. Jacobs' Homburg hat. "All right, my lord," he said, as Heyton muttered a sullen apology. "I was just taking a stroll." He went up the steps, and stood beside Heyton, looking at the view with obvious admiration; then presently, he said, "I was going to ask you if you'd mind signing a paper for me, my lord. It's just a little report for Scotland Yard; scarcely necessary perhaps, but still----" "All right," said Heyton, dully. "Here, come in here!" They entered the library by the French door. "A beautiful room: magnificent!" murmured Mr. Jacobs. He drew a paper from his pocket and spread it out on the writing-slope. "Just here, my lord, if you please; it's a kind of authorization from you to take charge of the case."