e or whist with some of
his cronies, and this being one of the appointed nights he sallied forth
about nine o'clock without giving Enid a second thought. If he had known
that she was shut up in Travers Nugent's grotto, his opponents at the
card-table would have had reason to rejoice; for, always a sound player,
he was more than usually deadly that evening.

On going downstairs at the conclusion of the play, he came upon the
lantern-jawed Mr. Lazarus Lowch, the foreman of the adjourned inquest.
Mr. Lowch was seldom to be found at the club so late, and he was mooning
about the ante-room with an abstracted air which promptly changed to
purposeful alertness at sight of Mr. Mallory. A less shrewd observer
than the old servant of the Foreign Office would have seen that he was
the object of this unwonted visitation.

"I should be glad if you could spare me a few minutes, Mallory," said
Lowch, in his funereal tones. "It is rather important and in a way
personal to yourself. We are on the eve of some striking developments in
this murder case, I think."

In common with most of his fellow-members, Mr. Mallory had no great
liking for the dismal Lazarus, but, like the old war-horse he was, he
pricked up his ears at the reason for the desired interview.

Glancing into the reading-room, he saw that it was unoccupied. "Come in
here," he said shortly. "There is no one to overhear us."

"Your mention of overhearing brings me at once to what I want to say,"
Mr. Lowch proceeded ponderously. "The other day, in this very club, I
overheard the most astonishing confirmation----"

"I know. I saw you listening on the stairs when Nugent and Chermside
were together in the card-room," Mr. Mallory could not resist the
interruption. "Incidentally, you led me into a bit of eavesdropping too,
for when I was at pains to inform myself who it was who was so engrossed
in that conversation, I couldn't help hearing a few words of what was
interesting you."

The sarcasm fell quite flat on Mr. Lazarus Lowch. His hide was as that
of a rhinoceros to any such delicate irony. He was one of those who
think that the end justifies the means, provided that the end in
question entails the discomfort or disparagement of some unfortunate
fellow-creature.

"Then if you heard it too, it will simplify my task," he went on
serenely. "Mr. Mallory, it will be my duty at the adjourned inquiry to
let daylight into the coroner about that fellow Chermside. He is the
murd