doubt if they'd have known it was him at all. It took a doctor's
examination to see clear that the throat had been cut. But cut it had
been, and deep, so the doctor said. And now the body's gone over to
Redfield mortuary."

Hewitt asked a few questions more, and got equally direct answers,
except where the coachman had to confess ignorance. But presently we
were at the house to which Hewitt had been summoned.

It was a pleasant house enough, standing alone, apart from the village,
a little way back from a loop of road that skirted a patch of open
green. As we came in at the front gate, I caught an instant's glimpse of
a pale face at an upper window, and before we could reach the
drawing-room door Miss Claire Peytral had met us.

She was a young lady of singular beauty, which the plain signs of
violent grief and anxiety very little obscured. Her complexion, of a
very delicate ivory tinge, was scarcely marred by the traces of
sleeplessness and tears that were nevertheless clear to see. Her eyes
were large and black, and her jetty hair had a slight waviness that was
the only distinct sign about her of the remote blend of blood from an
inferior race.

"Oh, Mr. Hewitt," she cried, "I am so glad you have come at last! I have
been waiting--waiting so long! And my poor mother is beginning to
suspect!"

"You have not told her, then?"

"No, it will kill her when she knows, I'm sure--kill her on the spot. I
have only said that father is ill at--at Redfield. Oh, what shall I do?"

The poor girl seemed on the point of breakdown, and Hewitt spoke sharply
and distinctly.

"What you must do is this," he said. "You must attend to me, and tell me
all I want to know as accurately and as tersely as you can. In that case
I will do whatever I can, but if you give way you will cripple me. It
all depends on you, remember. This is my intimate friend, Mr. Brett, who
is good enough to offer to help us. Now, first, I think I know the heads
of the case, from the newspapers, and, more especially, from your
coachman. But when you sent for me, no doubt you had some definite idea
or intention in your mind. What was it?"

"Oh, he is innocent, Mr. Hewitt--he is, really! The only friend I have
in the world--the only friend we all have!"

"Steady--steady," Hewitt said, pressing her kindly and firmly into a
seat. "You _must_ keep steady, you know, if I am to do anything. I
expected that would be your belief. Now tell me why you are so sure."