the
parting of the two companions.

There was very little to go upon there. Why should not one friend give
another an address? But the examination? Beaumaroy should surely know of
that? It might be nothing, but, on the other hand, it might have a
meaning. But the men had gone, had obviously parted for the night.
Beaumaroy could be told to-morrow; now he himself could go back to his
visions--and so homeward, in happiness, to his bed.

Having reached this sensible conclusion, he was about to turn away from
the garden gate which he now stood facing, when he heard the house door
softly open and as softly shut. The practice of his profession had given
him keen eyes in the dark; he discovered Beaumaroy's tall figure stealing
very cautiously down the narrow, flagged path. The next instant the light
of another torch flashed out, and this time not in the distance, but full
in his own face.

"By God, you, Naylor!" Beaumaroy exclaimed in a voice which was low but
full of surprise. "I--I--well, it's rather late--"

Alec Naylor was suddenly struck with the element of humor in the
situation. He had been playing detective; apparently he was now the
suspected!

"Give me time and I'll explain all," he said, smiling under the dazzling
rays of the torch.

Beaumaroy glanced round at the house for a second, pursed up his lips
into one of the odd little contortions which he sometimes allowed
himself, and said: "Well, then, old chap, come in and have a drink, and
do it. For I'm hanged if I see why you should stand staring into this
garden in the middle of the night! With your opportunities I should be
better employed on Christmas evening."

"You really want me to come in?" It was now Captain Alec's voice which
expressed surprise.

"Why the devil not?" asked Beaumaroy in a tone of frank but friendly
impatience.

He turned and led the way into Tower Cottage. Somehow this invitation to
enter was the last thing that Captain Alec had expected.

CHAPTER VIII

CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE

Beaumaroy led the way into the parlor, Captain Alec following. "Well, I
thought your old friend didn't care to see strangers," he said,
continuing the conversation.

"He was tired and fretful to-night, so I got him to bed, and gave him a
soothing draught--one that our friend Dr. Arkroyd sent him. He went
off like a lamb, poor old boy. If we don't talk too loud we sha'n't
disturb him."

"I can tell you what I have to tell in a few minu