Furneaux counted out the money, wrote a receipt on a leaf torn from his
pocket-book, and stamped it.

"Sign that," he said, "pocket the cash, send the set to the Hare and
Hounds for me in a dog-cart now, and the deal is through."

Leaving the table, he went and lifted down each picture carefully.
Somewhat wonderingly, Elkin rang the bell once more, gave the necessary
instructions, and the room was cleared of its art. He was quite sure now
that Furneaux was, as he put it, "dotty." The latter, however, sat and
enjoyed his tea as though well pleased with his bargain.

"And how are things going in the murder at The Hollies?" inquired the
horse-dealer, by way of a polite leading up to the visitor's
unexplained business.

"Fairly well," said the detective. "My chief difficulty was to convince
certain important people that you didn't kill Miss Melhuish. Once I--"

"Me!" roared Elkin, his pale blue eyes assuming a fiery tint. "_Me!_"

"Once I established that fact," went on the other severely, "a real
stumbling-block was removed. You see, Elkin, you have behaved throughout
like a perfect fool, and thus lent a sort of credibility to an otherwise
absurd notion. Your furious hatred of Mr. Grant, for instance, born of an
equally fatuous--or, shall I say? fat-headed--belief that Miss Martin
would marry you for the mere asking, led you into deep waters. It was a
mistake, too, when you lied to P.C. Robinson as to the time you came home
on that Monday night. You told him you walked straight here from the Hare