t the inquest to-day, to give his side of the
affair. There was a possible loophole of escape. Would Nigel be able
to get through it? That was the question.

The inquest was set for two o'clock. From eleven onward the great house
began to fill with expectant and curious visitors. Reporters from local
papers, and one or two who represented the London press, turned up, their
press-cards as tickets of admittance. Petrie was stationed at the door to
waylay casual strangers, but any who offered possible light upon the
matter, eye-witnesses or otherwise, were allowed to enter. It was
astonishing how many people there were who confessed to having "seen
things" connected with the whole distressing affair. By one o'clock
almost everyone was in place. At a quarter past, 'Toinette Brellier
arrived, dressed in black and with a heavy veil shrouding her pallor. She
was accompanied by her uncle.

Cleek met them in the hall. Upon sight of him 'Toinette ran up and caught
him by the arm.

"You are Mr. Headland, are you not?" she stated rather than asked, her
voice full of agitation, her whole figure trembling. "My name is
Brellier, Antoinette Brellier. You have heard of me from Nigel, Mr.
Headland. I am--engaged to be married to him. This is my uncle, with whom
I live. Mr. Headland--Mr. Brellier."

She made the introduction in a distrait manner, and the two men bowed.

"I am pleased to meet you, sir," said Brellier, in his stilted English,
"but I could wish it were under happier circumstances."

"And I," murmured Cleek, taking in the trim contour and the keen eyes of
this man who was to have been Merriton's father-in-law--if things had
turned out differently. He found he rather liked his looks.

"There is nothing--one can do?" Brellier's voice was politely anxious,
and he spread out his hands in true French fashion then tugged at his
closely clipped iron-gray beard.

"Anything that you know, Mr. Brellier, that would perhaps be of help, you
can say--in the witness box. We are looking for people who know anything
of the whole distressing tragedy. You can help that way, and that way
alone. For myself," he shrugged his shoulders, "I don't for an instant
believe Sir Nigel to be guilty. I can't, somehow. And yet--if you knew
the evidence against him--!"

A sob came suddenly from 'Toinette, and Brellier gently led her away. It
was a terrible ordeal for her, but she had insisted on coming--fearing,
hoping that she might be of use to Ni