er! It would be tomfoolery!"

Piers picked up the paper from the floor and smoothed it out. He
proceeded to study it with drawn brows, and Sir Beverley sat and
watched him with that in his stone-grey eyes which no one was ever
allowed to see.

"Eat your crumpets, boy!" he said at last.

"What?" Piers glanced up momentarily. "Oh, all right, sir, in a minute.
This is rather an interesting case, what? You see, Adderley was a
friend of mine."

"When did you meet him?" demanded Sir Beverley.

"I knew him in my school-days. He spent a whole term in the
neighbourhood. It was just before I left for my year of travel. I got to
know him rather well. He gave me several hints on wrestling."

"Did he teach you how to break your opponent's neck?" asked Sir
Beverley drily.

Piers made a slight, scarcely perceptible movement of one hand. It
clenched upon the paper he held. "They were--worth knowing," he said,
with his eyes upon the sheet. "But I should have thought he was too old a
hand himself to get into trouble."

Sir Beverley grunted. Piers read on. At the end of a lengthy pause he
laid the paper aside. "I'm beastly rude," he remarked. "Have a crumpet!"

"Eat 'em yourself!" said Sir Beverley. "I hate 'em!"

Piers picked up the plate and began to eat. He stared at the blaze as he
did so, obviously lost in thought.

"Don't dream!" said Sir Beverley sharply.

He turned his eyes upon his grandfather's face--those soft Italian eyes
of his so suggestive of hidden fire. "I wasn't--dreaming," he said
slowly. "I wonder why you think Adderley ought to be hanged."

"Because he's a murderer," snapped Sir Beverley.

"Yes; but--" said Piers, and became silent as though he were following
out some train of thought.

"Go on, boy! Finish!" commanded Sir Beverley. "I detest a sentence left
in the middle."

"I was only thinking," said Piers deliberately, "that hanging in my
opinion is much the easier sentence of the two. I should ask to be hanged
if I were Adderley."

"Would you indeed?" Sir Beverley sounded supremely contemptuous.

But Piers did not seem to notice. "Besides, there are so many
murderers in the world," he said, "though it's only the few who get
punished. I'm sorry for the few myself. Its damned bad luck, human
nature being what it is."

"You don't know what you're talking about," said Sir Beverley.

"All right; let's talk about something else," said Piers. "Caesar had a
glorious mill with that Irish terrier br