"Oh, not at all," he said. "In fact you must have wondered at mv manner. The fact is Mr.—er"
"Carrington."
"Mr. Carrington, that I'm in a most awful position at present. You know of course that I'm suspected of murder!"
"No!" exclaimed Carrington, with vast interest. "Not really?"
"It's an absolute fact—suspected of murder! Good God, just imagine it!"
The young baronet stopped and faced his new acquaintance dramatically. In spite of his nervousness, it was evident that his notoriety had compensations.
"Yes," he said, "I—the head of an ancient and honourable house—am actually suspected of having murdered my cousin, Sir Reginald Cromarty!"
"What, that murder!" exclaimed Carrington. "By Jove, of course, I've heard a lot about the case. And you are really suspected?"
"So much so," said the baronet darkly, "that when you touched me on the shoulder I actually thought you were going to arrest me!"
Carrington seemed equally astounded and penitent at this unfortunate reading of his simple and natural action in stepping suddenly out of the dark and tapping a nervous stranger on the shoulder.
"How very tactless of me!" he repeated more
