rst of it is," said Mr. Narkom gloomily, "there was a scene
between him and young Clavering but a couple of hours before the murder
was discovered."

"What's that?" rapped out Cleek. "A 'scene'! A quarrel do you mean? How
and where? Or perhaps you don't know?"

"As it happens, I do," said Narkom, "for I happened to be at Clavering
Close when it took place. You see, Lord St. Ulmer is laid up with a
sprained ankle at Wuthering Grange, where he has been staying with his
sister and brother-in-law, the Raynors. Lady Katharine seized the
opportunity to say farewell to Geoff, and came over at about eight
o'clock; and I hope, Cleek, I may never in my life again see anything so
heartbreaking as was made those last few minutes of parting."

"Few? Why few, pray?"

"Because they had not been together half an hour when the Count de
Louvisan came over, posthaste, after his fiancee. Lady Katharine's
absence had been discovered from the Grange, and naturally he was the
one who would come after her. You can guess what followed, Cleek. Young
Clavering fairly flew at the fellow, and would have thrashed him but
that his father and I got hold of him, and Hammond and Petrie hustled
the count out of the room. But even so, nobody could prevent that wild,
impetuous, excited boy from challenging the man, then and there. To that
the count merely threw back a laugh and said, as Petrie and Hammond
hustled him out of the room: 'Monsieur, one does not fight a fallen
foe--one merely pities him!' And it took all his father's strength and
mine to hold the boy in check. 'Pity yourself if ever I meet you!' he
shouted. 'There'll be one blackguard the less in the world if ever I
come within reach of you again, damn you! I had nine years of hope until
you came, and I'll put a mark on you for every one of them that you've
spoilt!"

"'A mark'!" repeated Cleek, with some slight show of agitation. "A mark
for every year? It is true that the barking dog is the last to bite
but---- What were those figures that you tell me were smeared on the
dead man's shirt bosom--2-4-1-2, were they not? And that sum equals
nine!"

"Yes," said Narkom, with a sort of groan. "Just nine, Cleek, just
exactly nine. That's what cut the heart out of me when I saw that dead
man spiked to the cottage wall, bearing the very mark he had sworn that
he should bear."

"I see," murmured Cleek thoughtfully. "Of course, the wisest of men are
sometimes mistaken, but somehow I took those n