Bernard, Mr. Grant, had made free with Conniston's clothes, as Mrs. Moon had stated. But, being much taller than his friend, he looked rather uncomfortable, and indeed had hidden the shortcomings of the garments under a gorgeous dressing-gown, a of Dick's 'Varsity days. But Conniston had through Durham several suits of 's clothes which had been left behind at the Hall when he was turned away by his grandfather. These he had brought with him, and Bernard was glad enough to get into comfortably-fitting garments. These, and the society of Conniston, a good dinner and the super-excellent port made him feel a new man.  
After dinner the two friends piled the fire with great logs as it was freezing hard without. Mrs. Moon brought up coffee hot and strong, and when she left the room the young men produced their pipes. Then Conniston sat on one side of the fire and Bernard on the other, and both of them prepared to go into the case and to see exactly how matters stood.
 
"In the first place," said Dick, filling his pipe carefully, "let us consider what actually happened. Sir Simon was alone that evening."
 
"He was when I found him dead, unless you call Mrs. Gilroy anyone."
 
"I call her a very important person," said Dick, dryly. "I tell you what, Gore, you evidently don't know everything. Just tell me what you do know."
 
"I have told you," said Bernard, impatiently. "I left Durham's house at ten o'clock; you mentioned the time yourself."
 
"I did," responded Conniston, gravely, "and I mentioned also the day of the month. It was the——"
 
"The twenty-third of October. Shall I ever forget a date so to me? I left the house, and a small boy stopped me. He said that a lady—he did not mention her name—had told him to inform me to follow him to the Red Window."
 
"Your cousin Lucy knew of that?"
 
"Yes. And I thought the lady in question was Lucy, but the boy did not mention any name. He simply said that he had been spoken to by the lady down Kensington way. Now I knew from Durham that Lucy was living with Sir Simon, who was in Crimea Square, Kensington, and that knowledge, coupled with the mention of the Red Window, made me follow the boy."
 
"Can you describe the lad?"
 
"Not very well. I caught a glimpse of him under a lamp-post, but the fog was so thick that I obtained only a vague impression. He seemed to be a fair, innocent-looking boy with fair hair—the kind of pure angelic creature by painters as a chorister."
 
"By Jove!" Conniston dashed down his pipe excitedly. "You describe Judas to the life. The plot thickens."
 
"The plot——"
 
"The plot which was to involve you in the crime, and, by Jove! those who it must have hired Judas to be your guide."
 
"Are you sure that this is the lad—Mrs. Moon's grandson?"
 
"As sure as I can be from your word-painting. Jerry—Judas suits him much better—is just what you say: an innocent, butter-won't-melt-in-my-mouth sort of who looks like an angel and acts like a of the infernal regions. And now I remember," went on Dick, "the little to me after you left me when we talked in the Park. He was then bare-footed and selling matches."
 
"This boy must be the same," said Bernard, thoughtfully. "He also had bare feet and carried boxes of matches in his hand."
 
"It's Judas sure enough!" muttered Conniston, pulling his mustache and staring gloomily into the fire. "I wonder what he was doing in that ? You followed him?"
 
"Yes, because he mentioned the Red Window. But for that I should have suspected something wrong. I don't care about following strange . But only Lucy knew about the Red Window."
 
"She might have told Beryl."
 
"What do you mean?"
 
"Never mind. Go on with your tale."
 
"Well, I followed the boy. He kept a little ahead of me, and several times when I got lost in the fog he reappeared."
 
"Judas is as clever as his father, the Accuser of the Brethren. How long were you getting to Crimea Square?"
 
"Allowing for stoppages, three-quarters of an hour. All the trouble took place about a quarter to eleven."
 
"Did you see the Red Window?"
 
"I saw a red glare in a window on the first floor. I don't suppose the glass was red, but think some red material must have been placed over a lamp and that placed close to the window."
 
"Might have been a blind," Dick, "and yet when Beryl looked and his friend Mrs. Webber they saw no Red Window. Are you sure?"
 
"I am certain," responded Gore, emphatically. "When I saw the Red Window I was convinced that Lucy had sent for me, and, thinking that she had persuaded my grandfather to relent, I would have entered the house for a personal interview but that Mrs. Gilroy came out."
 
"Could you be seen from the house?"
 
"I don't think so, the fog was very thick remember."
 
"Was any signal given?"
 
Bernard looked hard at his friend. "You think it was a trap?"
 
"I am certain. Was there any signal?"
 
"A kind of whistle. Something like this!"
 
Gore whistled in a kind of scale and in a particularly high key. The effect on Conniston was strange. He jumped up from his seat and walked hurriedly to and fro.
 
"Judas," he said. "I remember when I was down here that the little scamp had a kind of whistle like that—something like it. Listen!" Conniston whistled also, and Bernard nodded.
 
"That's it," he declared; "the whistle was given twice."
 
"Then the boy was Judas. He used to signal to Victoria in that way when the pair were up to their . Wait!" Conniston opened the door and whistled loudly in the same way. Twice he did this. Shortly after the second time the pattering of steps was heard and Victoria came running up the stairs with a lighted candle in her hand. She looked white and scared.
 
"Did you expect to see Jerry?" asked her master, .
 
The girl stared and turned even whiter than she was. "I thought it was Jerry, sir," she murmured, leaning against the balustrade. "He used to whistle like that when he came home!"
 
"I learned it from Jerry," said Conniston, , "and I tried to see if it would bring you. Go downstairs, girl. There's nothing wrong."
 
Victoria stared at Conniston with a suspicious look in her hard eyes, and then with a toss of her head ran down the stairs. Dick returned to the room and shut the door. "What do you think now?"
 
"It was Judas sure enough," said Bernard.
 
"Of course. And the signal was given to someone in the house to intimate that you were outside. Who came out?"
 
"Mrs. Gilroy?"
 
"Ah! Then she must have been waiting for the signal. By the way, you always seemed mixed over Mrs. Gilroy. When we first met you said that she didn't like you. Then you said she was your friend. Now which do you think she is?"
 
"I can hardly say. She always pretended to be my friend. I was never sure of her."
 
"Then you can be sure of her now. She is your bitter enemy."
 
"I am afraid so," sighed Gore, remembering the .
 
"Well," said Dick, resuming his seat, "what next?"
 
"Mrs. Gilroy came out 'Murder!' She dragged me upstairs and into the ——"
 
"Did you notice if there was a red lamp in the window?"
 
"No. I was too by the sight of my dead grandfather. I loosened the handkerchief round the throat——"
 
"That was a bandana, Sir Simon's own, and was produced at the inquest. What about the one over the mouth?"
 
"The one steeped in chloroform? I don't know. I had it in my hand when Mrs. Gilroy accused me. Then I lost my head. I must have dropped it."
 
Conniston looked disappointed. "That's a pity," said he. "I fancied you might have unconsciously taken it with you. You see, it was a white handkerchief and Sir Simon never used one of that color. If there happened to be a name on the corner——"
 
"It would be that of the assassin. Is that what you mean?"
 
"Yes, that is what I mean. The assassin must have used his own handkerchief."
 
"Why do you think that?"
 
Dick made an impatient gesture. "Why, it's the most natural thing he would do," was his reply. "He enters the room, and talks with Sir Simon. In his pocket he has the handkerchief steeped in chloroform and uses it unexpectedly. It's as clear as day."
 
"Why do you think the assassin is a man?"
 
"I'll tell you that later. Go on."
 
"There's nothing more to say. Mrs. Gilroy said that I was the assassin and tried to hold me. The [pg 135]policeman came and arrested me. Seeing what a fix I was in I bolted."
 
"You should have stood your ground," insisted Dick.
 
Bernard rose and in his turn paced the room. "Man alive, how could I do that?" he said . "The position was dangerous enough to the bravest man. Mrs. Gilroy accused me, sayi............