case, which was made of crocodile skin,
worked and dressed in a manner altogether new to him. He had never seen
anything like it in London tobacconists' shops, and he said so.

"Native manufacture," replied Musard, selecting a fresh cigar. "My
Chinese boy shot the crocodile which provided it. It's a rare thing for
a Chinese to be a good shot with a modern English rifle, but my boy
would carry off anything at Bisley. He never misses. It was lucky for me
that he didn't that time, because the brute came along to bag me while I
was swimming in a river. Suey, hearing me call, ran out from the tent
with my rifle, and shot him from the bank. He got him through the
eye--the eye and the throat are the only two vulnerable spots in a
crocodile. A bullet will rebound off the head as off a rock."

"Where did this happen?" asked Caldew, in an interested tone. His own
knowledge of crocodiles was confined to the fact that he had once seen a
small one in a tank at the Zoological Gardens.

"In Zambesi. There are plenty of them there in the rivers and mango
swamps. Some hunters stake a dog overnight by the river bank, and the
animal gives them warning of the approach of the reptiles by howling
with terror. It is rather cruel--to the dog."

"Undoubtedly," said Caldew.

"How are you getting on with your investigations in this case?"
continued Musard, abruptly changing the conversation.

Caldew was instantly wary, and stiffened into an attitude of official
reserve, wondering why Musard should seek to question him about the
murder.

"I am an old friend of the Herediths," continued Musard, as though
divining the other's thoughts. "This murder is a very terrible thing for
them. I am afraid it may mean Sir Philip's death-blow. He is old and
feeble, and the shock, and his son's illness, have had a very bad effect
on him. I should have gone to France to-day for the War Office, but I
arranged for somebody to go in my place in order to remain with the
family in their hour of trial. Have you found out anything which leads
you to suppose you are on the track of the murdered?"

"I am afraid I cannot tell you anything about the investigations,"
replied the detective cautiously. "I am not in charge of the case, you
know."

"I understand," rejoined the other, with a nod. "Perhaps I should not
have asked you. My anxiety must be my excuse."

He uttered this apology so courteously and pleasantly that Caldew felt
momentarily ashamed of his own ri