heir blood is up." Then he added: "Personally, it seems to me that
the murdered man was enticed from London to that spot and coolly done
away with--from some motive of revenge, most probably."

"Most probably," I said. "A vendetta, perhaps. I live in Italy, and
therefore know the Italians well," I added.

I had given him my card, and told him with whom I was staying.

"Where were you yesterday, sir?" he inquired presently.

"I was shooting--on the other side of the Nithsdale," I answered, and
then went on to explain my movements, without, however, mentioning my
visit to Rannoch.

"And although you know the murdered man so intimately, you have no
suspicion of anyone in this district who was acquainted with him?"

"I know no one who knew him. When he left my service he had never been
in England."

"You say he was engaged in service in London?"

"Yes, at a restaurant in Oxford Street, I believe. I met him
accidentally in Pall Mall one evening, and he told me so."

"You don't know the name of the restaurant?"

"He did tell me, but unfortunately I have forgotten."

The detective drew a deep breath of regret.

"Someone who waited for him on the edge of that wood stepped out and
killed him--that's evident," he said.

"Without a doubt."

"And my belief is that it was an Italian. There were two foreigners who
slept at a common lodging-house two nights ago and went on tramp towards
Glasgow. We have telegraphed after them, and hope we shall find them.
Scotsmen or Englishmen never use a knife of that pattern."

With his latter remark I entirely coincided. In my own mind that was the
strongest argument in favor of Leithcourt's innocence. That the tenant
of Rannoch had kept that secret tryst in daily patience I knew from my
own observations, yet to me it scarcely seemed feasible that he would
use a weapon so peculiarly Italian and yet so terribly deadly.

And then when I reflected further, recollecting that the body I had
discovered was that of a woman and not a man, I stood staggered and
bewildered by the utterly inexplicable enigma.

I promised the burly detective that in exchange for his secrecy
regarding my statement that I would assist him in every manner possible
in the solution of the problem.

"The real name of the murdered man must be at all costs withheld," I
urged. "It must not appear in the papers, for I feel confident that only
by the pretense that he is unknown can we arrive at the truth. If his
na