one more question to put to you first. Does the term Fire-Tongue
convey anything to your mind?"

Doctor McMurdoch's eyebrows shot upward most amazingly. "I won't
insult you by supposing that you have chosen such a time for
joking," he said, dourly. "But if your third question surprised
me, I must say that your fourth sounds simply daft."

"It must," agreed Harley, and his manner was almost fierce; "but
when I tell you why I ask these two questions--and I only do so
on the understand ing that my words are to be treated in the
strictest confidence--you may regard the matter in a new light.
'Nicol Brinn' and 'Fire-Tongue' were the last words which Sir
Charles Abingdon uttered."

"What!" cried Doctor McMurdoch, displaying a sudden surprising
energy. "What?"

"I solemnly assure you," declared Harley, "that such is the case.
Benson, the butler, also overheard them."

Doctor McMurdoch relapsed once more into gloom, gazing at the
whiskey in the glass which he held in his hand and slowly shaking
his head. "Poor old Charley Abingdon," he murmured. "It's plain
to me, Mr. Harley, that his mind was wandering. May not we find
here an explanation, too, of this idea of his that some danger
overhung Phil? You didn't chance to notice, I suppose, whether he
had a temperature?"

"I did not," replied Harley, smiling slightly. But the smile