the summons. Wrayson agrees to and does deliver it. That is to say, he
writes it down and leaves it in the letter-box of Barnes door, Barnes not
having yet returned. Now we begin to get mysterious. That communication
from our friend here has not been discovered. It was not in the
letter-box; it was not upon the person of the dead man. We cannot tell
whether or not he ever received it. I believe that I am right so far?"

"Absolutely," Wrayson admitted.

"Our friend Wrayson, then," the Colonel continued, beaming upon his
neighbour, "instead of going to bed like a sensible man, takes up a book
and falls asleep in his easy-chair. He wakes up about three or four
o'clock, and his attention is then attracted by the jingling of a hansom
bell below. He looks out of window and sees a cab, both the driver and
the occupant of which appear to be asleep. The circumstance striking him
as somewhat unusual, he descends to the street and finds--well, rather
more than he expected. He finds the cabman asleep, and his fare
scientifically and effectually throttled by a piece of silken cord."

Wrayson turned to the waiter and ordered a liqueur brandy.

"Have one, you fellows?" he asked. "Good! Four, waiter."

He tossed his own off directly it arrived. His lips were pale, and the
hand which raised the glass to his lips shook. Heneage alone, who was
watching him through a little cloud of tobacco smoke, noticed this.

"Have you finished with me, Colonel?" Wrayson asked.

"Practically," the Colonel answered, smiling, "unless you can answer one