She was gone. I followed into the hall. Below, in the street, I heard
the rattle of her taxi.

I went back into my room and sat down. I was upset, and no mistake.
Outside my windows the continuous symphony of the city played on--the
busses, the trains, the never-silent voices. I gazed out. What a
tremendous acreage of dank brick houses and dank British souls! I felt
horribly alone. I may add that I felt a bit frightened, as though that
great city were slowly closing in on me.

Who was this woman of mystery? What place had she held in the life--and
perhaps in the death--of Captain Fraser-Freer? Why should she come
boldly to my rooms to make her impossible demand?

I resolved that, even at the risk of my own comfort, I would stick to
the truth. And to that resolve I would have clung had I not shortly
received another visit--this one far more inexplicable, far more
surprising, than the first.

It was about nine o'clock when Walters tapped at my door and told me
two gentlemen wished to see me. A moment later into my study walked
Lieutenant Norman Fraser-Freer and a fine old gentleman with a face that
suggested some faded portrait hanging on an aristocrat's wall. I had
never seen him before.

"I hope it is quite convenient for you to see us," said young
Fraser-Freer.

I assured him that it was. The boy's face was drawn and haggard; there
was terrible suffering in his eyes, yet about him hung, like a halo, the
glory of a great resolution.

"May I present my father?" he said. "General Fraser-Freer, retired. We
have come on a matter of supreme importance--"

The old man muttered something I could not catch. I could see that
he had been hard hit by the loss of his elder son. I asked them to be
seated; the general complied, but the boy walked the floor in a manner
most distressing.

"I shall not be long," he remarked. "Nor at a time like this is one in
the mood to be diplomatic. I will only say, sir, that we have come to
ask of you a great--a very great favor indeed. You may not see fit to
grant it. If that is the case we can not well reproach you. But if you
can--"

"It is a great favor, sir!" broke in the general. "And I am in the odd
position where I do not know whether you will serve me best by granting
it or by refusing to do so."

"Father--please--if you don't mind--" The boy's voice was kindly but
determined. He turned to me.

"Sir--you have testified to the police that it was a bit past seven when
you he