the express purpose of investigating this appalling affair.  The expression of your face so plainly said, ’What right has he to go meddling in another man’s affairs like this?’ that I was obliged to confess the fact, for the sake of my self-respect.  My friend here, Mr. Lake, is working with me.”  At this he gave Borkins a keen, searching look, and saw in the man’s impassive countenance that this was no news to him.  “Now then, my man, speak out.  You tell us you heard that revolver-shot when your master fired it from his bedroom.  Where are your quarters?”

“On the other side of the ’ouse, sir,” returned Borkins, flushing a trifle.  “But I was up in me dressing gown, as I’d some’ow thought that something was amiss.  I’d ’eard the quarrel that ’ad taken place between Sir Nigel and poor Mr. Wynne, and I’d ’eard ’im go out and slam the door be’ind ’im.  So I was keeping me ears peeled, as you might say.”

“I see.  Doing a bit of eavesdropping, eh?” asked Cleek, and was rewarded by an angry look from under the man’s dark brows and a sudden tightening of the lines about his mouth.  “And what then?”

“I kept about, first in the bathroom, and then in the ’all, keeping my ears open, for I’d an idea that one day things would come to a ’ead between ’em.  Sir Nigel had taken Mr. Wynne’s girl and—­”

“Close your lying mouth, you vile beast!” spat out Merriton, vehemently, “and don’t you dare to mention her name, or I’ll stop you for ever from speaking, whether I hang or not!”

Borkins looked at Cleek, and his look quite plainly conveyed the meaning that he wished the detective to notice how violent Sir Nigel could be on occasions, but if Cleek saw this he paid not the slightest heed.

“Speak as briefly as you can, please, and give as little offence,” he cut in, in a sharp tone, and Borkins resumed: 

“At last I saw Sir Nigel and the Doctor and Mr. West come up the corridor together.  I ’eard ’em bid each other good-night, saw the Doctor go into ’is room, and Mr. West return to the smoking-room, and ’eard Sir Nigel’s key turn in ’is lock.  After that there was silence for a bit, and all I ’ears was ’is moving about and muttering to ’imself, as though ’e was angry about something.  Then, just as I was a-goin’ back to me own room, I ’eard the pistol-shot, and nips back again.  I ’eard ’im say, ’Got you—­you devil!’ and then without waitin’ for anything else, I runs down to the servants’ ’all, which is directly below the smoking room where the other gentlemen were talking and smoking.  I peers out of the window, upward—­for it’s a half-basement, as perhaps you’ve noticed, sir—­and there, in the light of the moon, I see Mr. Wynne’s figure, crouched down against the gravel of the front path, and makin’ funny sorts of noises.  And then, all of a sudden, ’e went still as a dead man—­and ’e was a dead man.  With that I flies to me own room, frightened half out of me wits—­for I’m a peace-lovin’ person, and easily scared, I’m afraid—­and then I locks meself in, sayin’ over and over to meself the words, ’He’s done it!  He’s done it at last!  He’s murdered Mr. Wynne, he has!’ And that’s all I ’ave to say, sir.”