may have been committed by a man who was
practically a lunatic, without any motive or reason whatever."

"Precisely so, sir," the detective agreed.

"But, all the same, I don't think it was."

"Neither do I, sir."

Francis smiled slightly.

"Shopland," he said, "if there is no further external evidence to be
collected, I suggest that there is only one person likely to prove of
assistance to you."

"And that one person, sir?"

"Miss Daisy Hyslop."

"The young lady whom I have already seen?"

Francis nodded.

"The young lady whom you have already seen," he assented. "At the
same time, Mr. Shopland, we must remember this. If Miss Hyslop has any
knowledge of the facts which are behind Mr. Bidlake's murder, it is more
likely to be to her interest to keep them to herself, than to give them
away to the police free gratis and for nothing. Do you follow me?"

"Precisely, sir."

"That being so," Francis continued, "I am going to make a proposition
to you for what it is worth. Where were you going when I met you this
morning, Shopland?"

"To call upon you in Clarges Street, sir."

"What for?"

"I was going to ask you if you would be so kind as to call upon Miss
Daisy Hyslop, sir."

Francis smiled.

"Great minds," he murmured. "I will see the young lady this afternoon,
Shopland."

The detective raised his hat. They had reached the spot where his
companion turned off by the Horse Guards Parade.

"I may hope to hear from you, then, sir?"

"Within the course of a day or two, perhaps earlier," Francis promised.

Francis continued his walk along the Embankment to his chambers in the
Temple. He glanced in the outer office as he passed to his consulting
room.

"Anything fresh, Angrave?" he asked his head-clerk.

"Nothing whatever, sir," was the quiet reply.

He passed on to his own den--a bare room with long windows looking out
over the gardens. He glanced at the two or three letters which lay on
his desk, none of them of the least interest, and leaning back in
his chair commenced to fill his pipe. There was a knock at the door.
Fawsitt, a young beginner at the bar, in whom he had taken some interest
and who deviled for him, presented himself.

"Can I have a word with you, Mr. Ledsam?" he asked.

"By all means," was the prompt response. "Sit down."

Fawsitt seated himself on the other side of the table. He had a long,
thin face, dark, narrow eyes, unwholesome complexion, a slightly hooked
nose, and