questioned him. But it was too late to apply the warning thus
conveyed. If he faltered now he was forever discredited. These men
would read his perplexed face as if it were a printed page. In his
distress be was prepared to hear Winter or that little satyr,
Furneaux, say mockingly:

"Why are you trying to screen James Creighton Forbes? What is he to
you? What matter his fame or social rank? We are here to see that
justice is done. Out with the truth, let who may suffer."

But neither of the pair said anything of the sort. Furneaux only
interjected a sarcastic comment.

"You will observe, Mr. Theydon, that even in a minor instance of
deductive reasoning, such as this, the man who smells rather than the
man who smokes tobacco solves the problem promptly."

Theydon threw out his hands in token of surrender. He thought he saw a
means of escape, and took it unhesitatingly.

"I'm vanquished," he said. "You force me to admit that I do know a
little, a very little, more than I have confessed hitherto about the
man who visited Mrs. Lester's flat last night. I have said nothing
about the matter thus far because I didn't want to be convicted of a
piece of idle curiosity worthy of a gossip-loving housemaid. I noticed
the man I have described staring at the name tablet of the street as
my cab turned the corner. I did not know him. I had never seen him
before last night, but he was of such distinguished appearance and his
face was of so rare a type that I was interested and wished to
ascertain, if possible, on whom he meant calling if, as it seemed, he