the corner of his eye, and the shadow of a smile crossed his face.
"How does it happen that this brother is here so—I was about to say—opportunely?"
"He told me that he came by appointment, but on an earlier train than he had at first intended to take, to pass Sunday with his brother."
"Now see," mused Ferrars, "what little things, done or left undone, shape or shorten our lives! If he had telegraphed to his brother announcing his earlier arrival, there would have been no target practice, but a walk to the station instead."
The doctor sighed, and for a few moments walked on in silence. Then, as they neared the cottage he almost stopped short and turned toward the detective.
"I'm afraid you will think me a sad bungler, Ferrars. I should have told you at once that Robert Brierly awaits us at Mrs. Marcy's cottage."
"Robert Brierly? Is that his name? I wonder if he can be the Robert Brierly who has helped to make one of our morning papers so bright and breezy. A rising young journalist, in fact. But it's probably another of the name."
"I don't know. He has not spoken of himself. Will it suit you to meet him at once?"
"We don't often get the chance to begin as would
