Mayfield's face was grim and set; there was just a flash of contempt in his eyes for Speed, who was breathing hard. The dramatic part of the situation was lost on Mr. George Dashwood, who could think of nothing else beyond the speculative possibilities that Mayfield had been holding out to him.

"You don't seem to be any better," Mayfield said to Speed. "you look ghastly. Anybody would think that you had been caught in some crime."

Behind the contemptuous words there was a note of warning to Speed. Anybody less blind than George Dashwood would have noticed how agitated he was. Speed caught just a glimpse of his own features in a quaint old mirror over the fireplace. He could see that he was green and grey by turns; he started at his own haggard face. Small wonder, then, that Mayfield had given him a warning.

"I'm feeling like a corpse," he said. "It's agony for me to sit up any longer. If you don't mind, I think I'll go to bed."

"Why not try the fresh air?" Dashwood suggested. "It is a cure sometimes."

"Drizzling with rain," Speed replied. "Darnley turned up the collar of his overcoat as he passed the window. I could see him from behind the screen. On the whole, I should be far better between the sheets."

As he spoke Speed shot a questioning glance at Mayfield. The latter nodded.

"Perhaps it would be as well," he said; "if you feel as seedy as that. I must not be long, either, as I have to leave pretty early tomorrow. I'll just finish my discussion with Mr. Dashwood over a cigar, and then I'll follow your example. I suppose the butler comes around and fastens up all the windows?"

"The rest of the house," Speed explained. "I generally fasten the windows here myself. I'll leave you to do it tonight, Mayfield. Don't forget. One never knows what sort of person is hanging about a house like this."

Speed crept out of the room and across the hall, on the way to his room. He was shaking from head to foot still and his legs were hardly equal to his weight. He lighted a candle with a trembling hand, taking several matches to do so. Out of the shadow came Slight, who watched his master with a curious expression.

"Perhaps you will permit me to do that for you, sir?" he suggested politely.

"Go away," Speed cried. "Go to bed. Think that I'm too drunk to light a candle? Why do you follow me like this? Send my man to me. Gone to Longtown for the night, has he? Oh, I recollect giving him permission now."

Speed staggered up the stairs, and into his own room. Once there, he opened a cupboard and produced therefrom a bottle of brandy. He poured out half a tumbler and drank it greedily. He placed his hands over his eyes as if to hide some horrible vision. He was free now to give way to his feelings; he was no longer under observation. He would have given ten years of his life to recall the last half hour.

He sat there, gazing into space and making no effort to remove his clothes. An hour passed; then there was a tap on the door. Speed started violently; he was half afraid that the arm of the law was groping for him already. His face cleared a little as Mayfield came in and closed the door very carefully.

"Well?" the latter said. "Are you getting over it? I'm more than sorry I started this little business. If Dashwood had had any power of observation he would have seen that there was something worse than illness the matter with you tonight."

"It was awful," Speed groaned. "you would feel just the same if you'd done it. All the time I was pretending to be ill behind the screen, I was standing by the open window. I heard Darnley say goodnight to you. I stood with the loaded stick in my hand. And as he passed by the window under the veranda I struck him down. . . . He fell stone dead without a single groan. He lay there absolutely still. And I would have forfeited all I had to recall those last few moments. If you could have seen his face----"

"Oh, never mind that," Mayfield said brutally. "The thing is done and there is an end of it. And you know perfectly well that you would do the same thing again tomorrow. So he lies there in the verandah, does he? What about the stick?"

"The stick is hidden in the laurel bushes. We can burn that when there is time."

"To-night. Our work is not finished. Darnley must not lie there. We shall have to carry him as far as the drive. It is a bit risky, but the thing must be done. Everybody has gone to bed now. Dashwood and old Slight can testify that neither of us have been out of the house since dinner time, so we are quite safe."

"Let him lie............