sea- That was a week ago—just a week ago to-day. He was pretty stiff and standoffish, but he took to Lucia. Everybody does, you know. Fortune, old man, she's wonderful. I thought he seemed a good deal aged, but he was just as brisk and sharp as ever. He had us to dine with him on Monday. And then—well, last night he called on us again, came about four, stayed a long time. And he was so jolly and genial. And afterwards I went out to post some letters, and there he was, lying not a dozen yards from our door. He'd been stabbed. He was in a pool of blood. Good God! It was awful."
"Yes. Yes. Seems to be a quiet street where you live."
"Vinton Place—it's a little cul-de-sac."
"It was dark when he left? And you heard nothing? Yes. I wonder who his money goes to?"
"What the devil do you mean?" Geoffrey cried.
"Well, that's quite a fair question," said Reggie Fortune placidly. "If I'm actin' for you, and if you like, I will, I look only to your interests. If I'm acting for Scotland Yard—and if it's a hard case, they'll call me in—I'm only concerned to get the truth out, whoever suffers."
"And do you think I don't want the truth?" Geoffrey cried. "What are you hinting at? Do you mean I murdered him?"
"Preserve absolute calm," said Reggie Fortune.
"I'm not calm. What a beast I should be if I was
