“Oh, it is all very commonplace!  Your lordship had received a threatening letter and called on the woman.  She wanted money; you refused.  She already had a husband living in France, a ruined gambler of the Bourse, but had tricked you into thinking she was your wife.  You had discovered the deception and discarded her.  From a music-hall singer she had gone down—­down, until she, once beautiful, courted, had become a mere—­what she was, associate of one like Dandy Joe, cunning, unscrupulous.  At your refusal to become the victim of their blackmailing scheme, she in her anger seized a weapon; during the struggle, it was accidentally discharged.”

Was Lord Ronsdale asking himself how the other had learned this?  If Rogers had escaped with the paper, John Steele knew Ronsdale might well wonder that the actual truth should have been discovered; he would not, under those circumstances, even be aware of the existence of a witness of the tragedy.  But was Lord Ronsdale assuming a manner, meeting subtlety with subtlety?  John Steele went on quietly, studying his enemy with close, attentive gaze.

“At sound of the shot, Joe, who had been waiting below in the kitchen with the landlady, rushed up-stairs.  You explained how it happened; were willing enough to give money now to get away quietly without being dragged into the affair.  The dead woman’s confederate, greedy for gain even at such a moment, would have helped you; but there was a difficulty:  would the police accept the story of suicide?  There were signs of a struggle.  At that instant some one entered the house, came stumbling up the stairs; it was the—­’Frisco Pet.”

John Steele paused; his listener sat stiff, immovable.  “Joe hurried you out, toward a rear exit, but not before,” leaning slightly toward Lord Ronsdale, “an impression of your face, pale, drawn, had vaguely stamped itself on the befuddled brain,” bitterly, “of the fool-brute.  You lost no time in making your escape; little was said between you and Joe; but he proved amenable to your suggestion; the way out of the difficulty was found.  He hated the Pet, who had once or twice handled him roughly for abusing this poor creature.  You gave Joe money to have the landlady’s testimony agree with his; she never got that money,” meaningly, “but gave the desired evidence.  Joe had found out something.”

Once more the speaker stopped; there remained a crucial test.  If Lord Ronsdale had the paper, what John Steele was about to say would cause him no surprise; he would be prepared for it.  The words fell sharply: 

“The landlady’s son, Tom Rogers, was at the time in the house, in hiding from the police.  He was concealed above in a small room or garret; through a stove-pipe opening, disused, he looked down into the sitting-room below and heard, saw all!”