are needed, my dear Mr. Henfrey," replied the elder man.
"So long as you are free, what matters? But I do not wish you to
deliberately run risks which are so easily avoided. Why did you leave
Abingdon Road?"

"I was advised to do so by a friend."

"Not by Miss Ranscomb, I am sure."

"No, by a Mr. Benton, whom I know."

The old man's eyebrows narrowed for a second.

"Benton?" he echoed. "Charles Benton--is he?"

"Yes. As he was a friend of my late father I naturally trust him."

Mr. Peters paused.

"Oh, naturally," he said a second later. "But where are you living now?"

Hugh told him that he was the guest of Mrs. Bond of Shapley Manor,
whereupon Mr. Peters sniffed sharply, and rising, obtained a box of good
cigars from a cupboard near the fireplace.

"You went there at Benton's suggestion?"

"Yes, I did."

Mr. Peters gave a grunt of undisguised dissatisfaction, as he curled
himself in his chair and examined carefully the young man before him.

"Now, Mr. Henfrey," he said at last. "I am very sorry for you. I happen
to know something of your present position, and the great difficulty in
which you are to-day placed by the clever roguery of others. Will you
please describe to me accurately exactly what occurred on that fateful
night at the Villa Amette? If I am to assist you further it is necessary
for you to tell me everything--remember, _everything_!"

Hugh paused and looked the stranger straight in the face.

"I thought you knew all about it," he said.

"I know a little--not all. I want to know everything. Why did you
venture there at all? You did not know the lady. It was surely a very
unusual hour to pay a call?" said the little man, his shrewd eyes fixed
upon his visitor.

"Well, Mr. Peters, the fact is that my father died in very suspicious
circumstances, and I was led to believe the Mademoiselle was cognizant
of the truth."

The other man frowned slightly.

"And so you went there with the purpose of getting the truth from her?"
he remarked, with a grunt.

Hugh nodded in the affirmative.

"What did she tell you?"

"Nothing. She was about to tell me something when the shot was fired by
someone on the veranda outside."

"H'm! Then the natural surmise would be that you, suspecting that woman
of causing your father's death, shot her because she refused to tell you
anything?"

"I repeat she was about to disclose the circumstances--to divulge her
secret, when she was struck down."

"You ha