"I've seen his name on jam tins and such like," she said rapidly. "He has a great house at Tarhaven." "I know. I have been there once, a couple of years ago. But he quarrelled with me, and turned me out." "Because of Miss--Miss?" she could not say the name. "Yes! I wanted to marry my cousin. Sir Simon would not let me." "And she--she----?" "She obeyed her father, as a daughter should," said Herries bitterly. "But I do not know why I talk of these very private affairs to you. But if you would----" "Hush!" Elspeth placed a silencing finger on her lips, "the police." Hardly had she left the room, when the Inspector--as he evidently was from his smart uniform--entered in an abrupt manner. He was a kindly, red-faced man, with a military moustache, and an official manner, which made him assume a severity which Herries guessed was foreign to his nature. Two policemen were visible in the narrow passage as the Inspector entered the room, after a word or two with the girl, to learn why she had been with the prisoner. "Your name?" demanded the officer sharply, and taking in Herries' looks with a shrewd and observant eye. "Angus Herries. I am innocent," said the accused man hurriedly, then, anxious to exculpate himself, he talked on vehemently, and thereby did the worst thing possible. "I do not know the dead man's name, or the man himself. I have never seen him. I was fast asleep all the time. I found the razor, and----" "Stop," said the Inspector peremptorily, "anything you say now will be used in evidence against you. Hold your tongue, until I am ready to examine you, and follow me," and with that he turned his back to march out of the room. Herries saw that it would be as well to be circumspect, and walked silently after the representative of the law. The official turned to the right and opened the door of the death room at which Narby was standing. This was the first time the Inspector had been inside, and he wanted Herries to be present to see what effect the sight of his supposed victim would have on his nerves. The young man was glad to enter. He wished to face the worst at once. The room was similar to the other, bare, cold-looking, and sparingly furnished with the flotsam and jetsam of auction rooms. Everything seemed to be disordered, but the bedclothes were smoothed out, and thereon lay a stiff figure, covered with a sheet. The police officer turned down the sheet and beckoned Herries to approach. The very next moment the young man staggered back amazed. "Great Heavens!" he gasped, thunderstruck, "it is Sir Simon Tedder!" CHAPTER III CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE "Sir Simon Tedder!" Inspector Trent--as the red-faced official was called--relaxed his stiffness, so far as to display astonishment. "The millionaire, who made his fortune out of jam and pickles; who has a house at Tarhaven?"