curious! Er—perhaps you'd like a little refreshment, Mr. Weech, after your journey? A whisky-and-soda, now?"
"Well, thank you," he answered, readily, with a glance at the sideboard. "It wouldn't come amiss, Mr. Craye; I hired a push-bicycle at Wooler, but, my word! it wasn't half a job shoving the old thing over your roads—some part of the way, at any rate! Cruel!"
I gave him a good stiff mixture and put a box of biscuits at the side of his glass. Then I got Madrasia's attention once more, and, holding The Times in my hand, turned to the door.
"Just excuse Miss Durham and myself for a few minutes, Mr. Weech," I said. "We'll not keep you long."
Outside the parlour, and with its door safely shut on our visitor, I looked at Madrasia, who, in her turn, looked inquiringly at me.
"Come up to the library!" I whispered. "Those books!"
"Yes!" she answered. "I thought of that!"
We stole up the stair, for all the world as if we were going to commit some nefarious deed, and into the room wherein Parslewe kept his
