“Mr. Rees!” the inspector exclaimed.  “And Mr. Phipps!  Here?  Why, I’ve a dozen men all over the country looking for you two gentlemen!”

There was a dead silence.  Wingate’s hand had stolen into his pocket, in which there was a little bulge, Rees seemed about to speak, then checked himself.  He glanced towards Phipps,—­Phipps, whose hands were clasped together as though he were in pain.

“The wanderers returned,” Wingate explained, with a smile.  “Lord Dredlinton, as you know.  Inspector, has been very much worried by the supposed disappearance of his fellow directors.  They turned up here last night unexpectedly.  It seems that they have been all the time up in the North of England, making some investigations connected with the energies of their company.  Their sudden return was naturally a great relief to Lord Dredlinton.  We all celebrated—–­perhaps a little too well.  Since then I am afraid we must also plead guilty,” Wingate went on, “to a rather wild night, which has ended, as you see, in tragedy.”

The inspector bent down and examined Lord Dredlinton’s body.

“The doctor is on his way here,” Wingate continued.  “He will inform us, no doubt, as to the cause of death.  Lord Dredlinton looked very exhausted many times during the night—­or rather the morning—­”

“I am to understand,” Shields interrupted quietly, “that, overjoyed by the return of his friends, Lord Dredlinton, Mr. Phipps, Mr. Rees and yourself indulged forthwith in a debauch?  A great deal of wine was drunk?”

“A great deal,” Wingate admitted.

“Supper, I see, has been served here,” the inspector went on, “and you have played cards.”

“Poker,” Wingate assented.  “Lord Dredlinton preferred bridge but we rather overruled him.”

Shields turned towards the two men, who had been silent listeners.  In his face there seemed to be some desire for corroboration.

“You two gentlemen were present when Lord Dredlinton died?” he asked.

“We were,” Phipps replied, after a moment’s hesitation.

“We believed that it was a faint,” Rees observed.  “Even now it seems impossible to believe that he is dead.”

“Dead!—­My God!” Phipps repeated, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Nothing else transpired during the evening,” the inspector continued, “likely to have proved a shock to his lordship?”

“Nothing,” Phipps declared hoarsely.  “We must have been playing for a great many hours.”

“I am a strong man,” Rees added, “and the youngest of the party, but I too—­feel faint.”

“It seems a little strange, Mr. Wingate,” Shields remarked, turning towards him, “that you yourself show not the slightest signs of fatigue.”

Wingate smiled grimly.

“I neither drink nor smoke to excess,” he explained, “and as a rule I keep regular hours.  Perhaps that is why, if I choose to sit up all night, I am able to stand it.”