injured him? Assuming the first theory to be the correct one, your
death was determined upon by the sect over which he had formerly
presided. Assuming the second to be accurate, however, it is presumably
the man himself for whom we must look. Now, Colonel Menendez, kindly
inform me if you recall the name of this man?"

"I recall it very well," replied the Colonel. "His name was M'kombo,
and he was a Benin negro."

"Assuming that he is still alive, what, roughly, would his age be to-
day?"

The Colonel seemed to meditate, pushing a box of long Martinique cigars
across the table in my direction.

"He would be an old man," he pronounced. "I, myself, am fifty-two, and
I should say that M'kombo if alive to-day would be nearer to seventy
than sixty."

"Ah," murmured Harley, "and did he speak English?"

"A few words, I believe."

Paul Harley fixed his gaze upon the dark, aquiline face.

"In short," he said, "do you really suspect that it was M'kombo whose
shadow you saw upon the lawn, who a month ago made a midnight entrance
into Cray's Folly, and who recently pinned a bat wing to the door?"

Colonel Menendez seemed somewhat taken aback by this direct question.