"Facts--much stranger than fiction!" "Then I'm sure it's time he'd something to refresh himself with," said Cotherstone hospitably.

"Come away, gentlemen, and we'll see if we can't find a drop to drink and a cigar to smoke." He led the way to the dining-room and busied himself in bringing out some boxes of cigars from a cupboard while Lettie produced decanters and glasses from the sideboard.
"So you're interested in criminal matters, sir ?" observed Cotherstone as he offered Brereton a cigar.

"Going in for that line, eh ?" "What practice I've had has been in that line," answered Brereton, with a quiet laugh.

"One sort of gets pitchforked into these things, you know, so----" "What's that ?" exclaimed Lettie, who was just then handing the young barrister a tumbler of whisky and soda which Bent had mixed for him.
"Somebody running hurriedly up the drive--as if something had happened! Surely you're not going to be fetched out again, father ?" A loud ringing of the bell prefaced the entrance of some visitor, whose voice was heard in eager conversation with a parlourmaid in the hall.
"That's your neighbour--Mr.Garthwaite," said Bent.
Cotherstone set down the cigars and opened the dining-room door.

A youngish, fresh-coloured man, who looked upset and startled, came out of the hall, glancing round him inquiringly.
"Sorry to intrude, Mr.Cotherstone," he said.