rbour malice against any person.

"What are we supposed to do--shake hands?" he inquired blandly.

"It might be a good preliminary to a better understanding of one another.
You think Winter is an unscrupulous ruffian. He described you to me as a
swine not two hours ago. Now, you are both wrong. Winter is the best
living police detective, and a most fair-minded one. He will be a valuable
ally. Before many days are over you will be deeply in his debt in every
sense of the word. On the other hand, you, Hume, are a much-wronged man,
whom Winter must help to regain his rightful position. This is one of the
occasions when Justice is compelled to take the bandage off her eyes. She
may be impartial, but she is often blind. Now be friends, and let us start
from that basis."

Silently the two men exchanged a hearty grip.

"Excellent!" cried the barrister. "Hume, take Winter with you in front. I
will seat myself beside the groom, and please oblige me, both of you, by
not addressing a word to me between here and Stowmarket."

Hume and the detective got along comfortably once the ice was broken.
Naturally, they steered clear of all reference to the tragedy in the
presence of the servant. Their talk dealt chiefly with sporting matters.

Brett, carried swiftly along the level road, kept his eyes fixed on
Beechcroft and its contiguous hamlet until they vanished in the middle
distance.

"This is the most curious inquiry I was ever engaged in," he communed.
"Winter, of course, will fasten on to Capella like a horse leech when he
knows the facts. Yet Capella is neither a coward nor an ordinary villain.
For some ridiculous reason, I have a sneaking sympathy with him. Had he
stormed and blustered when I pitched into him to-day I would have thought
less of him. And his wife! What mysterious workings of Fate brought those
two together and then disunited them? They become fascinated one with the
other whilst the brother's corpse is still palpitating beneath that
terrible stroke. They get married, with not unreasonable haste, but no
sooner do they reach Beechcroft, a house of evil import if ever bricks and
mortar had such a character, than they are driven asunder by some malign
influence.

"And now, after eighteen months, I am asked to take up the tangled clues,
if such may be said to exist. It is a difficult, perhaps an impossible,
undertaking. Yet if I have done so much in a day, what may not happen in a
fortnight!"

Long afterwards