Frank went out into the hall. The head of the constabulary and two of
his men were standing there. Much surprised, Frank asked the officer
into the other sitting-room.

"What is it, Mr. Henderson?" he said.

"It is a very sad business, a very sad business, Mr. Wyatt. Your brother
is not at home, I hear?"

"No. Julian went over this morning to have a day's rabbit-shooting with
Dick Merryweather. I expect it won't be long before he is back. There is
nothing the matter with him?" he asked, with a vague feeling of alarm at
the gravity of the officer's face.

"It is a very painful matter, Mr. Wyatt; but it is useless trying to
hide the truth from you, for you must know it shortly. I hold a warrant
for your brother's arrest on the charge of attempted wilful murder."

Frank's eyes dilated with surprise and horror.

"You don't mean--" he gasped, and then his faith in his brother came to
his aid, and he broke off indignantly: "it is monstrous, perfectly
monstrous, Mr. Henderson. I suppose it is Faulkner, and it is because of
that wretched smuggling business that suspicions fall on him, as if
there were not a hundred others who owe the man a much deeper grudge
than my brother did; indeed he had no animosity against him at all, for
Julian got the best of it altogether, and Faulkner has been hissed and
hooted every time he has been in the town since. If there was any
ill-feeling left over that matter, it would be on his part and not on
Julian's. Who signed the warrant? Faulkner himself?"

"No; it is signed by the Colonel and Mr. Harrington. They took the dying
deposition of Mr. Faulkner. There is no harm in my telling you that,
because it must be generally known when your brother is brought up, but
till then please do not let it go further. He has sworn that he overtook
Mr. Wyatt two or three hundred yards before he got to his own gate.
There was an altercation between them, and he swears that your brother
used threats. He had a double-barrelled gun in his hand, and as Faulkner
was riding up the drive to the house he was fired at from the trees on
his left, and fell from his horse. Almost directly afterwards Mr. Wyatt
ran out from the spot where the gun had been fired. Thinking he would
finish him if he thought he was still alive, Mr. Faulkner closed his
eyes and held his breath. Your brother came up and stood over him, and
having satisfied himself that he was dead, ran off through the trees
again."

"I believe it is a