he at once began to borrow enormous sums from the money-lenders.  This is of great importance, as the police believe it was these debts which drove him to the murder of his brother.  Yesterday, as you know, Lord Chetney suddenly returned from the grave, and it was the fact that for two years he had been considered as dead which lent such importance to his return and which gave rise to those columns of detail concerning him which appeared in all the afternoon papers.  But, obviously, during his absence he had not tired of the Princess Zichy, for we know that a few hours after he reached London he sought her out.  His brother, who had also learned of his reappearance through the papers, probably suspected which would be the house he would first visit, and followed him there, arriving, so the Russian servant tells us, while the two were at coffee in the drawing-room.  The Princess, then, we also learn from the servant, withdrew to the dining-room, leaving the brothers together.  What happened one can only guess.

“Lord Arthur knew now that when it was discovered he was no longer the heir, the moneylenders would come down upon him.  The police believe that he at once sought out his brother to beg for money to cover the post-obits, but that, considering the sum he needed was several hundreds of thousands of pounds, Chetney refused to give it him.  No one knew that Arthur had gone to seek out his brother.  They were alone.  It is possible, then, that in a passion of disappointment, and crazed with the disgrace which he saw before him, young Arthur made himself the heir beyond further question.  The death of his brother would have availed nothing if the woman remained alive.  It is then possible that he crossed the hall, and, with the same weapon which made him Lord Edam’s heir, destroyed the solitary witness to the murder.  The only other person who could have seen it was sleeping in a drunken stupor, to which fact undoubtedly he owed his life.  And yet,” concluded the Naval Attache, leaning forward and marking each word with his finger, “Lord Arthur blundered fatally.  In his haste he left the door of the house open, so giving access to the first passer-by, and he forgot that when he entered it he had handed his card to the servant.  That piece of paper may yet send him to the gallows.  In the meantime, he has disappeared completely, and somewhere, in one of the millions of streets of this great capital, in a locked and empty house, lies the body of his brother, and of the woman his brother loved, undiscovered, unburied; and with their murder unavenged.”

In the discussion which followed the conclusion of the story of the Naval Attache, the gentleman with the pearl took no part.  Instead, he arose, and, beckoning a servant to a far corner of the room, whispered earnestly to him until a sudden movement on the part of Sir Andrew caused him to return hurriedly to the table.

“There are several points in Mr. Sears’s story I want explained,” he cried.  “Be seated, Sir Andrew,” he begged.  “Let us have the opinion of an expert.  I do not care what the police think, I want to know what you think.”