“The one I furnished you!” Captain Forsythe rested his chin on the knob of his stick.  “Odd about that, wasn’t it?—­that the day in the library at Strathorn House, when I was about to tell you how I had better success the second time I visited the landlady, we should have been interrupted.  And,” looking at the other furtively, “by Jocelyn Wray!” Steele did not answer.  “If I had only seen the drift of your inquiries, had detected more than a mere perfunctory interest!  With the confession given me on her death-bed by the landlady, that she had testified falsely to protect her good-for-nothing son, and acknowledging that another whom she did not know by name, but whom she described minutely, had entered the house on the fatal night—­with this confession in your hands, a world of trouble might have been saved.  As it is,” he ended half-ruefully, “you have found me most unlike the proverbial friend in need, who is—­”

“A friend, indeed!” said John Steele, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder, while a smile, somewhat constrained, lighted his face for a moment.  “Who at once rose to the occasion; hastened to London on the receipt of a letter that was surely a test of friendship—­”

“Oh, I don’t know about that!” quickly.  “Test of friendship, indeed!” Captain Forsythe looked slightly embarrassed beneath the keen searching eyes.  “Don’t think of it, or—­Besides,” brightening, “I had to come; telegram from Miss Wray, don’t you know.”

“Miss Wray!” Steele’s hand fell suddenly to his side; he looked with abrupt, swift inquiry at the other.

Captain Forsythe bit his lips.  “By Jove!—­forgot—­” he murmured.  “Wasn’t to say anything about that.”

“However, as you have—­” John Steele regarded him steadily.  “You received a telegram from—­”

“At the same time that your letter intercepted me at Brighton.”

“Asking you to return to London?”

“Exactly.  She—­wanted to see me.”

“About?” John Steele’s eyes asked a question; the other nodded.  “Of course; not difficult to understand; her desire to hush up the affair; her fear,” with a short laugh, “lest the scandal become known.  A guest at Strathorn House had been—­”

“I don’t think it was for—­”

“You found out,” shortly, “that she, too, had learned—­knew—­”

“Yes; she made me aware of that at once when she came to see me with Sir Charles.  It was she sent your luggage—­”

“Sir Charles?  Then he, also?—­”

“No.  You—­you need feel no apprehension on that score.”  A peculiar expression came into the other’s glance.  “You see his niece told him it was not her secret; asked him to help her, to trust her.  Never was a man more perplexed, but he kept the word he gave her on leaving for London, and forebore to question her.  Even when they drove through London in that fog—­”

“Yes, yes.  I know—­”

“You?  How—?”

John Steele seemed not to hear.  “She saw you that night?”