m."

"Mr. Eccles was going to tell us about it when you entered the room. I
think, Watson, a brandy and soda would do him no harm. Now, sir, I
suggest that you take no notice of this addition to your audience, and
that you proceed with your narrative exactly as you would have done had
you never been interrupted."

Our visitor had gulped off the brandy and the colour had returned to
his face. With a dubious glance at the inspector's notebook, he
plunged at once into his extraordinary statement.

"I am a bachelor," said he, "and being of a sociable turn I cultivate a
large number of friends. Among these are the family of a retired
brewer called Melville, living at Abermarle Mansion, Kensington. It
was at his table that I met some weeks ago a young fellow named Garcia.
He was, I understood, of Spanish descent and connected in some way with
the embassy. He spoke perfect English, was pleasing in his manners,
and as good-looking a man as ever I saw in my life.

"In some way we struck up quite a friendship, this young fellow and I.
He seemed to take a fancy to me from the first, and within two days of
our meeting he came to see me at Lee. One thing led to another, and it
ended in his inviting me out to spend a few days at his house, Wisteria
Lodge, between Esher and Oxshott. Yesterday evening I went to Esher to
fulfil this engagement.

"He had described his household to me before I went there. He lived
with a faithful servant, a countryman of his own, who looked after all
his needs. This fellow could speak English and did his housekeeping
for him. Then there was a wonderful cook, he said, a half-breed whom
he had picked up in his travels, who could serve an excellent dinner.
I remember that he remarked what a queer household it was to find in
the heart of Surrey, and that I agreed with him, though it has proved a
good deal queerer than I thought.

"I drove to the place--about two miles on the south side of Esher. The
house was a fair-sized one, standing back from the road, with a curving
drive which was banked with high evergreen shrubs. It was an old,
tumbledown building in a crazy state of disrepair. When the trap
pulled up on the grass-grown drive in front of the blotched and
weather-stained door, I had doubts as to my wisdom in visiting a man
whom I knew so slightly. He opened the door himself, however, and
greeted me with a great show of cordiality. I was handed over to the
manservant, a melancholy,