lying dead outside the house. Now, Mr. Brett, I ask you, would you have
submitted that fairy tale to a jury? I was quite assured of a verdict in
my favour, though the first disagreement almost shook my faith in Helen's
promise, but I did not want to end my days in a criminal lunatic asylum."

He did not appear to expect an answer. He was quite calm again, and even
his eyes had lost their intensity. The mere telling of his uncanny
experience had a soothing effect. He nonchalantly readjusted his watch and
chain, and noted the time.

"I have gone far beyond my stipulated half hour," he said, forcing a
deprecatory smile.

"Yes; far beyond, indeed. You carried me back to 1763, but Heaven alone
knows when you will end."

"Will you take up my case?"

"Can you doubt it? Do you think I would throw aside the most remarkable
criminal puzzle I have ever tackled?"

"Mr. Brett, I cannot find words to thank you. If you succeed--and you
inspire me with confidence--Helen and I will strive to merit your lifelong
friendship."

"Miss Layton knows the whole of your story, of course?"

"Yes; she and my father only. I must inform you that I had never heard the
full reason of the duel between the first Sir Alan and his nephew. But my
father knew it fairly well, and the details fitted in exactly with my