becoming more inscrutable than any of those in the
remarkable romances which he penned.

"Well, my conclusions are drawn from several very startling facts--facts
which, of course, have never leaked out to the public. But before I
reveal them to you I'd like to hear what opinion you've formed yourself."

"I'm convinced that Harry Bellairs met with foul play, and I'm equally
certain that the man Barker lied in his depositions before the coroner.
He knows the whole story, and has been paid to keep a still tongue."

"There I entirely agree with you," Trendall declared quickly; while at
that moment the secretary returned with a slip of paper attached to the
query which his chief had written. "Ah!" he exclaimed, glancing at the
paper, "I see that the fellow Barker, who was a chauffeur before he
entered Harry's service, has set up a motor-car business in
Southampton."

"You believe him to have been an accessory, eh?"

"Yes, a dupe in the hands of a clever woman."

"Of what woman?" asked Walter, holding his breath.

"As you know, Harry was secretary to your friend Elcombe. Well, I happen
to know that his pretty stepdaughter, Enid Orlebar, was over head and
ears in love with him. My daughter Ethel and she are friends, and she
confided this fact to Ethel only a month before the tragedy."

"Then you actually suggest that a--a certain woman murdered him?" gasped
Fetherston.

"Well--there is no actual proof--only strong suspicion!"

Walter Fetherston held his breath. Did the suspicions of this man, from
whom no secret was safe, run in the same direction as his own?

"There was in the evidence given before the coroner a suggestion that the
captain had dined somewhere in secret," he said.

"I know. But we have since cleared up that point. He was not given poison
while he sat at dinner, for we know that he dined at the Bachelors' with
a man named Friend. They had a hurried meal, because Friend had to catch
a train to the west of England."

"And afterwards?"

"He left the club in a taxi at eight. But what his movements exactly were
we cannot ascertain. He returned to his chambers at a quarter past nine
in order to change his clothes and go back to Salisbury, but he was
almost immediately taken ill. Barker declares that his master sent him
out on an errand instantly on his return, and that when he came in he
found him dying."

"Did he not explain what the errand was?"

"No; he refused to say."

In that refusal Fether