"Really! Does he reside so near as that?"

"My dear fellow," cried Harley, "he lives at a place called the Guest
House. You can see it from part of the grounds of Cray's Folly. We were
looking at it to-day."

"What! the house on the hillside?"

"That's the Guest House! What do you make of it, Knox? That Menendez
suspects this man is beyond doubt. Why should he hesitate to mention
his name?"

"Well," I replied, slowly, "probably because to associate practical
sorcery and assassination with such a character would be preposterous."

"But the man is admittedly a student of these things, Knox."

"He may be, and that he is a genius of some kind I am quite prepared to
believe. But having had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Colin Camber, I am
not prepared to believe him capable of murder."

I suppose I spoke with a certain air of triumph, for Paul Harley
regarded me silently for a while.

"You seem to be taking this case out of my hands, Knox," he said.
"Whilst I have been systematically at work racing about the county in
quest of information you would appear to have blundered further into
the labyrinth than all my industry has enabled me to do."