n
bedroom, so that the slightest attempt to open it, or even to touch it,
would hammer out an alarm close to my head."

"Has it ever done so?"

"Yes--last night, when Tolliver was killed."

"How killed, Sir Henry? Stabbed or shot?"

"Neither. He appeared to have been strangled, poor fellow, and to have
died in most awful agony."

"Strangled? But, my dear sir, that would hardly have been possible in so
short a time. You say your men heard him call out for help. Granted that
it took them a full minute--and it probably did not take them half
one--to open the doors and come to his assistance, he would not be stone
dead in so short a time; and he was stone dead when they got in, I
believe you said?"

"Yes. God knows what killed him--the coroner will find that out, no
doubt--but there was no blood shed and no mark upon him that I could
see."

"Hum-m-m! Was there any mark on the door of the steel stall?"

"Yes. A long scratch, somewhat semi-circular, and sweeping downwards at
the lower extremity. It began close to the lock and ended about a foot
and a half lower."

"Undoubtedly, you see, Cleek," put in Narkom, "someone tried to force an
entrance to the steel room and get at the mare, but the prompt arrival
of the men on guard outside the stable prevented his doing so."

Cleek made no response. Just at that moment the limousine was gliding
past a building whose courtyard was one blaze of parrot tulips, and,
his eye caught by the flaming colours, he was staring at them and
reflectively rubbing his thumb and forefinger up and down his chin.
After a moment, however:

"Tell me something, Sir Henry," he said abruptly. "Is anybody interested
in your not putting Black Riot into the field on Derby Day? Anybody with
whom you have a personal acquaintance, I mean, for of course I know
there are other owners who would be glad enough to see him scratched.
But is there anybody who would have a particular interest in your
failure?"

"Yes--one. Major Lambson-Bowles, owner of Minnow. Minnow's second
favourite, as perhaps you know. It would delight Lambson-Bowles to see
me 'go under'; and as I'm so certain of Black Riot that I've mortgaged
every stick and stone I have in the world to back her, I should go under
if anything happened to the mare. That would suit Lambson-Bowles down to
the ground."

"Bad blood between you, then?"

"Yes--very. The fellow's a brute, and--I thrashed him once, as he
deserved, the bounder. It may int