tayed while
the rooms were searched, and was afterwards able to steal downstairs
unobserved and gain the safety of her mother's apartments, where the
revolver and the handkerchief were subsequently found."

"This is a remarkable story," said Musard slowly. "Do the police believe
it?"

"They do not, but I have my reasons for thinking it true," responded
Colwyn. "The next step in the story of how this unhappy girl became the
victim of an apparently irrebuttable set of circumstances through her
own silence, has to do with another person's secret visit to the
moat-house on the night of the murder. That person was a man, who came
to return to Mrs. Heredith the necklace which we subsequently discovered
to be missing from her locked jewel-case. It is not necessary to relate
how the necklace came to be in his hands. He had undertaken to return
the necklace from London to enable Mrs. Heredith to produce it on the
following day, and it was arranged between them that when he reached the
moat-house that night he was to enter the unused door in the left wing,
which was to be previously unlocked for him, and was to wait on the
staircase until Mrs. Heredith was able to steal down to him and obtain
the jewels. That plan was upset by Tufnell finding the door unlocked,
and locking it again before his arrival. When he did arrive he found
himself unable to get in."

"Stop a moment," exclaimed Musard hoarsely. "This story goes too deep
for me. Who is this man? Do you know him? Has he anything to do with the
murder?"

"Yes, I know him, and he has much to do with the murder," said the
detective. "Shall I mention his name, Mr. Heredith?"

Phil nodded, as though he were unable to speak.

"The man is Captain Nepcote."

"Nepcote!" A swift flash of wrath came into Musard's heavy dark eyes as
he uttered the name. Then, in a wider understanding of the sordid
interpretation of Colwyn's story, he hesitatingly added: "I think I see.
It was Nepcote's revolver. Was it he who shot Violet?"

"Before answering that question it is necessary to give Nepcote's
explanation of his actions on that night. His own story is that he did
not enter the house. He says that while he was waiting outside he heard
a scream followed by a shot, and he then hid in the woods in front of
the house until he thought it safe to return to London. He declares he
is innocent of the murder."

"That is a lie!" Phil burst forth. "Who will believe him?" He stopped
abruptly, an