had not finished my sloe gin I should drink to your health!"
It was Carrington's turn to look disconcerted. Recovering himself he said with a smile:
"You shall have another glass of sloe gin when you have grasped the situation. I assure you I am actually a detective—or, rather, a private enquiry agent."
Sir Malcolm shook a knowing head.
"My dear fellow," said he, "you can't really pull my leg like that. I can see perfectly well you are a gentleman."
"I appreciate the compliment," said Carrington, "but just let me tell you what was in the telegram which has brought you here. It ran—'Come immediately urgent news don't answer please don't delay. Cicely Farmond.'"
Sir Malcolm's mouth fell open.
"How—how do you know that?" he asked.
"Because I wrote it myself. Miss Farmond is quite unaware it was sent."
The baronet began to look indignant.
"But—er—why the devil, sir—"
"Because I am a detective," interrupted Carrington, "and I wished to see you."
Sir Malcolm evidently began to grasp the situation at last.
"What about?" he asked, and his face was a little paler already.
"About this murder. I wanted to satisfy myself that you were—or were not—innocent."
"But—er—how?"
