The conversation to which I refer took place on the night of young Bidlake's murder, and Mr.Ledsam, with my somewhat, I confess, bombastic words in his memory, has pitched upon me as the bloodthirsty murderer." "Hold on for a moment, sir," Peter Jacks begged, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

"We've got to have another drink quick.

Poor old Bobby here looks knocked all of a heap, and I'm kind of jumpy myself.
You'll join us, sir ?" "I thank you," was the courteous reply.

"I do not as a rule indulge to the extent of more than one cocktail, but I will recognise the present as an exceptional occasion.

To continue, then," he went on, after the glasses had been filled, "I have during the last few weeks experienced the ceaseless and lynx-eyed watch of Mr.Ledsam and presumably his myrmidons.