In the early hours of the morning a tragic little party was assembled in the study at Beston Priory.

John Lexman, white and haggard, sat on the sofa with his wife by his side.

Immediate authority as represented by a village constable was on duty in the passage outside, whilst T.X.
sitting at the table with a writing pad and a pencil was briefly noting the evidence.
The author had sketched the events of the day.

He had described his interview with the money-lender the day before and the arrival of the letter.
"You have the letter!" asked T.X.
John Lexman nodded.
"I am glad of that," said the other with a sigh of relief, "that will save you from a great deal of unpleasantness, my poor old chap.

Tell me what happened afterward." "I reached the village," said John Lexman, "and passed through it.