oud rat-tat at the front
door, and Jack Glover hastened into the hall to answer. But it was not
the policeman he had expected. It was a girl in a big sable coat,
muffled up to her eyes. She pushed past Jack, crossed the hall, and
walked straight into the drawing-room.

Lydia, standing shakily by Mrs. Rennett's side, saw the visitor come in,
and then, as she unfastened her coat, recognised her with a gasp. It
was the beautiful girl she had seen in the stalls of the theatre the
night before!

"And what can we do for you?" It was Glover's voice again, bland and
bantering.

"I want Meredith," said the girl shortly, and Glover chuckled.

"You have wanted Meredith for a long time, Miss Briggerland," he said,
"and you're likely to want. You have arrived just a little too late."

The girl's eyes fell upon the parson.

"Too late," she said slowly, "then he is married?"

She bit her red lips and nodded, then she looked at Lydia, and the blue
eyes were expressionless.

Meredith had disappeared. Lydia looked round for him in her distress,
but he had gone. She wondered if he had gone out to the police, to make
his surrender, and she was still wondering when there came the sound of
a shot.

It was from the outside of the house, and at the sound Glover ran
through the doorway, crossed the hall and flew into the open. It was
still snowing, and there was no sign of any human being. He raced along
a path which ran parallel with the house, turned the corner and dived
into a shrubbery. Here the snow had not laid, and he followed the garden
path that twisted and turned through the thick laurel bushes and ended
at a roughly-built tool house. As he came in sight of the shed he
stopped.

A man lay on the ground, his arm extended, his head in a pool of blood,
his grey hand clutching a revolver.

Jack uttered an exclamation of horror and ran to the side of the fallen
man.

It was James Meredith, and he was dead.

Chapter V

Jack Glover heard footsteps coming down the path, and turned to meet a
man who had "detective" written largely all over him. Jack turned and
looked down again at the body as the man came up.

"Who is this?" asked the officer sharply.

"It is James Meredith," said Jack simply.

"Dead?" said the officer, startled. "He has committed suicide!"

Jack did not reply, and watched the inspector as he made his brief,
quick examination of the body. A bullet had entered just below the left
temple, and the