in spite of the adventures of the night, collins was the first down in the morning. old john was in the dining-room.

“oh, sir,” he said, “mr. eric has gone off early this morning. he has left a note for miss mabel, and he left something for me as he always does, with a note to say he had to go back to london, and would have breakfast on the train.”

“oh, yes,” said collins. “miss watson told me he was going to-day, but i did not think he was going so early.”

“may i say a word to you, sir? you have been very good to me, and did not laugh at me the other day. you know, sir, about—what i saw.”

“what you thought you saw,” said collins, with a smile.

“yes, sir, well i was awake last night and i can swear i heard people talking. i should have come down, but after what happened, i was afraid to.”

“that’s quite all right, i was about myself, and so was mr. sanders. i expect it was the storm which kept us all awake.”

“but what were you doing in the empty room in the attics, sir, if i may be so bold as to ask?”

“in the attics?” said collins; then, quickly, “oh, yes, of course, we heard a window banging, and went to see.”

john looked sceptical. “but forgive me, sir, it sounded as though there was a woman with you, or a man disguising his voice.”

collins dared not ask further.

“you must have been mistaken, surely,” he said.

“perhaps so, sir,” he said, doubtfully.

the room with the light in it, thought collins. this is getting interesting.

allery came in. “hullo, collins,” he said. “down already. what a night of storm, but it has cleared up now.”

“yes, it has cleared up now,” said collins, with such meaning in his voice that the other man looked at him with surprise.

“sanders has gone,” said collins.

“really, i knew he was going to-day, but he is very early. you are off, too?”

“yes, i must get back. it is very jolly down here, but not business. there are a lot of things i must see to in london.”

the others drifted in slowly, but a message came from mabel that she was not feeling well, and would not be down till later.

there was a general feeling of uneasiness in the air.

collins had ordered the car for ten o’clock, and thought he would not see his hostess, but she came in as he was getting ready to go.

“i am most awfully sorry i could not be down this morning. pray forgive me.”

“i hope you are feeling better,” he said. she was obviously ill, and lines of black showed round her eyes.

“i am afraid this visit has been very dull for you,” she said.

“on the contrary, i have enjoyed it immensely,” he hesitated. “miss watson,” he said, “i would not like to worry you, but if it should happen that certain suspicions gather round someone who is perhaps dear to you⸺”

he got no further. her face turned ashen, and she reeled as though about to faint. collins caught her, and held her, but she repulsed him.

“what do you mean?” she said in a hoarse whisper.

“i want to warn you. if you hear anything—any rumour about sanders⸺”

“eric?” she said, in unmistakable astonishment. “whatever should there be against him?”

there was more relief than indignation in her tone, which collins was quick to notice. he took a quick resolve.

“i will tell you. on the day that your father was murdered, after he had posted a letter, mr. sanders called to see him.”

now her eyes were wide open with horror.

“he handed a note under the door, begging your father to see him.”

“but how do you know this?” she said breathlessly.

he pulled out his pocket book without a word, and handed her the card. she looked at it, turning it over in her hand, and gave it back to him.

“i found this in the room at the first examination, and mrs. simmons afterwards told me the truth.”

“did he see my father?” she asked.

“no; he would not see him.”

“and—have you told this to the police?”

“no,” replied he; “i work independently. i have not told a soul.”

tears came into her eyes.

“how good of you, and he has treated you so badly all the time, and you never said a word. of course you don’t really suspect him, but you might have given him an awful time.”

“i am afraid you give me credit for too much generosity. i never move till i am certain. in any case i would not have let his behaviour affect my attitude.”

“well, i think you have acted like a sportsman, and i am very grateful,” and she gave him her hand.

“you haven’t got to go at once, have you? do stay a little longer.”

“this is very good of you,” he said, “but i must get off by this train.”

“i am sorry,” she said, and went out.

collins stood in thought.

“why was she so scared, and then so relieved when i mentioned eric’s name?” this was getting interesting.

he went outside and ordered the car, telling the man he would want it immediately.

when he returned allery met him in the hall. he came forward at once.

“collins, mabel has told me what you have done about sanders. let me tell you it is a generous action. although i know the boy is as straight as a die, you could have made havoc of his life, and something would have clung to him, even when he had cleared himself.”

“don’t mention it. i knew he was not the murderer.”

allery looked at him.

“you have done a very clever thing,” he said, “by accident. oh, i have been keeping my eyes open. if you had used this against sanders you would have made all mabel’s sympathy turn to him, and against you. it was like that with her father. she would have turned on you with loathing. as it is she is struck with your generous conduct towards sanders, and angry with him for his treatment of you.”

“nonsense, my dear fellow,” said collins, “you are entirely wrong about—what shall we say—the situation.”

allery gave a keen glance at him. “humph,” he said, “i wonder.”

“the car is waiting, sir,” said john.

collins took his leave, and was driven to wilton-on-sea. at the station he dismissed the chauffeur with a liberal tip, and watched him drive off. he then went to the parcels office and despatched his bag to his flat in london. having done this he set out for a long walk, with nothing but a stout stick, and a rucksack with a few necessaries for the night. he had a long tour in front of him.

a steady rain was falling through the thick night, but the wind had dropped. the vale was wrapped in shadow, not a light was showing. in the shrubbery collins watched, getting what shelter he could. unless all his calculations were at fault, here was the crisis of the situation. he was in front of the main door, and here it was that something would take place.

the time passed slowly, and he was thankful for the flask he had brought. away in the distance a clock was striking. it was only nine o’clock.

presently a familiar sound broke on his ear, the purring of a car. along the drive came a gaunt, formless mass showing no light. he parted the bushes and looked keenly into the body of the car. it was empty. there was no one but the driver, who was heavily wrapped up. the car drew up at the door, and the driver got down. it was too dark to see further, and collins came stealthily from the bushes, and turned down the drive. he was stiff from his waiting, but broke into a run, and only paused when he came to the entrance into the main road. the gate was open, but he carefully shut it.

it would be necessary to open it and to light up. he concealed himself.

it was not long before he heard the car coming down the drive.

silently he drew from his pocket an automatic pistol and stood ready.

at the gate the car came to a stop. he heard a woman’s voice say, “bother, the gate must have shut. just open it, will you?”

“a man’s voice replied, “hush, not so loud,” and a figure got out of the car, and went forward.

the gate swung back, and at the same moment the driver turned on the headlights. they were dimmed and did not give much light, but a flicker struck the man, though he tried to dodge out of the way.

in that brief moment collins recognised him. the next moment the car had swung out into the road.

“allery, by all that’s holy,” said collins, “and the other is mabel, of course.” then he laughed.

“so that’s it, is it?”

he set out on his long tramp to the nearest town.