“In a sense it is,” Lord Cheisford continued.  “The remuneration, of course, will be high, but the post itself may not be a permanency, and you will live all the time at high pressure.  The Duke will place a small house at your disposal, and it will be required that you form no new acquaintances without reference to him, nor must you leave this place on any account without permission.  You will virtually be a prisoner, and if certain of my suspicions are correct you may even find the post one of great physical danger.  On the other hand, you will have a thousand a year salary, and a sum of five thousand pounds in two years’ time if all is well.”

Excitement seemed to have steadied my nerves.  I forgot all the minor tragedies which had been real enough things to face only a few hours ago.  I spoke calmly and decisively.

“I accept, Lord Cheisford,” I said.  “I shall count my life a small thing indeed against my fidelity.”

He drummed idly with his forefinger upon the table.  His eyes were wandering around the room absently.  His face was calm and expressionless.

“Very well, then,” he said, “my business here is settled.  I shall leave it with the Duke to acquaint you with the practical details of your work, and our arrangement.”

He rose to his feet.  The Duke glanced at his watch.

“You have only just time for the train,” he remarked.  “The car shall take you there.  I prefer to walk back, and I have something further to say to Mr. Ducaine.”

Lord Chelsford took leave of me briefly, and the Duke, after accompanying him outside, returned to his former seat.  I ventured upon an incoherent attempt to express my gratitude, which he at once waved aside.  He leaned over the table, and he fixed his eyes steadfastly upon me.

“I am able now,” he said, “to ask you a question postponed from the other day.  It is concerning the man who was found dead in the creek.”

His merciless eyes noted my start.

“Ah!” he continued.  “I can see that you know something.  I have my suspicions about this man.  You can now understand my interest when I hear of strangers in the neighbourhood.  I do not believe that he was a derelict from the sea.  Do you?”

“No,” I answered.

He nodded.

“Am I right,” he said, “in presuming that you know he was not?”

“I know that he was not,” I admitted.

His fingers ceased their beating upon the table.  His face became white and masklike.

“Go on,” he said.

“I know that he came through Braster, and he asked for me.  He looked in through the window of my cottage when Colonel Ray was with me.  I saw him no more after that until I found him dead.”

“Ray left you after you had seen this man’s face at the window?”

“Yes.”

“The wounds about the man’s head and body.  If he was not thrown up by the sea, can you explain them?”