“Yes,” said Brett aloud, “you are an egregious ass, Winter.”

“Why, Mr. Brett?” asked the unabashed detective.  “Isn’t the make-up good?”

“It is the make-up that always leads you astray.  You never theorise above the level of the Police Gazette.”

Mr. Winter yielded to not unnatural annoyance.  With habitual caution, he glanced around to assure himself that no other person was within earshot; then he said vehemently: 

“I tell you, Mr. Brett, that swine killed Sir Alan Hume-Frazer.”

“You use strong language.”

“Not stronger than he deserves.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard he was in London, and watched him.  I saw him go to your chambers and guessed what was up, so I came down here to see you and tell you what I know.”

“Out of pure good-nature?”

“You can believe it or not, Mr. Brett.  It is the truth.”

“He has been tried and acquitted.  He cannot be tried again.  Does Scotland Yard—­”

“I’m on my holidays.”

Brett laughed heartily.

“I see!” he cried.  “A ’bus-driver’s holiday!  For how long?”

“Fourteen days.”

“You are nothing if not professional.  I suppose it was not your first offence, or they might have let you off with a fine.”

The detective enjoyed this departmental joke.  He grinned broadly.

“Anyhow, Mr. Brett,” he said, “you and I have been engaged on too many smart bits of work for me to stand quietly by and let you be made a fool of.”

The barrister came nearer, and said, in a low tone: 

“Winter, you have never been more mistaken in your life.  Now, attend to my words.  If you help me you will, in the first place, be well paid for your services.  Secondly, you will be able to place your hand on the true murderer of Sir Alan Hume-Frazer, or I will score my first failure.  Thirdly, Scotland Yard will give you another holiday, and I can secure you some shooting in Scotland.  What say you?”

The detective looked thoughtful.  Long experience had taught him not to argue with Brett when the latter was in earnest.

“I will do anything in my power,” he said, “but there is more in this business than perhaps you are aware of—­more than ever transpired at the Assizes.”

“Quite so, and a good deal that has transpired since.  Now.  Winter, don’t argue, there’s a good fellow.  Go and engage the landlord of the local inn in a discussion on crops.  I am off to Beechcroft Hall.  Mr. Hume and I will call for you on our way back to Stowmarket.  In our private sitting-room at the hotel there I will explain everything.”

They parted.  Brett was promptly admitted by Mrs. Crowe, and walked rapidly up the avenue.

Winter watched his retreating figure.