CHAPTER III


In the early hours of the morning a tragic little party was
assembled in the study at Beston Priory. John Lexman, white and
haggard, sat on the sofa with his wife by his side. Immediate
authority as represented by a village constable was on duty in the
passage outside, whilst T. X. sitting at the table with a writing
pad and a pencil was briefly noting the evidence.

The author had sketched the events of the day. He had described
his interview with the money-lender the day before and the arrival
of the letter.

"You have the letter!" asked T. X.

John Lexman nodded.

"I am glad of that," said the other with a sigh of relief, "that
will save you from a great deal of unpleasantness, my poor old
chap. Tell me what happened afterward."

"I reached the village," said John Lexman, "and passed through it.
There was nobody about, the rain was still falling very heavily
and indeed I didn't meet a single soul all the evening. I reached
the place appointed about five minutes before time. It was the
corner of Eastbourne Road on the station side and there I found
Vassalaro waiting. I was rather ashamed of myself at meeting him
at all under these conditions, but I was very keen on his not