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"Oh," said the colonel, blinking rapidly, "do you? Well—we shall see. No discernible fingerprints on bell-push of Lord Marcus' house, or elsewhere. Inquiries to confirm stories of Miss Fay Perigal and James Wake, butler, already afoot. Regarding Lord Marcus, must confess my mind divided."

"So is mine, sir," said Firth.

"Formerly in same regiment in Egypt. We were both with Allenby. Up to time that he left the Army, knew Amberdale well. Always eccentric. Too much money for a young man, as he was then. First-rate horseman, better than myself, and I was pretty hot. Won classic events on his own mounts. Then, suddenly, gave it all up—same time he gave up the Army."

"If I don't interrupt you, sir, am I right in supposing that he was also a good boxer?"

"All-round athlete, Firth. All-round man. Oh! I see what you're driving at. Stupid of me. Thinking of the bruise, described by Fawcett as 'bluish contusion' which he found above Sir Giles's heart? Result of a powerful blow, he suggests. Don't believe Amberdale would deny it, if he'd done it. However—where was I? Oh, yes, Amberdale. Well, something overtook him. Went in for queer studies. Disappeared for years. Told he was living in solitude, somewhere up Nile Valley. Apart from social occasions, here and there, seen practically nothing of him since those days. Of one thing am sure: Amberdale is no liar—but he may be mad."