"Of course it does," he broke in eagerly. "I ask you: Is it likely? At one moment we are told that Captain Shillington was a pattern of all the virtues and that his business acumen and abilities had earned for him not only a fortune but the admiration of all those who knew him; and the very next we are asked to suppose that he would meekly allow a young blackguard, whom he knew to be dishonest and unscrupulous, to drag him 'reluctantly' to some obscure haunt of a gang of criminals. Surely that should have jumped to the eyes of any sane person who had studied the case." "I don't suppose," I retorted, "that Captain Shillington allowed Buckley to drag him very far. Most people believed at the time that he was attacked directly he rounded the corner of Somerset Street. There are one or two entrances to mews just about there----" "Yes," the funny creature rejoined excitedly, "but not one nearer than fifty yards from Mexfield House. And do you think that the immaculate Australian would have walked ten at night with young Buckley and with those pearls in his pocket? Why should he? He was outside his own door. Wouldn't he have taken Henry into the house with him if he wished to speak to him? No! No! The whole theory is inconceivable...." "But Captain Shillington disappeared," I argued, "and so did the pearls, and his hat was found floating in the river, torn and blood-stained. You cannot deny that." "I certainly cannot deny," he replied, "that a blood-stained hat will float on the water if it is thrown--say, from a convenient bridge." "But the scarf?" I retorted. "A scarf will obey the same laws of Nature as a hat." "But surely you are not going to tell me----?" "What?" "That the whole thing was a confidence trick, after all?"