He removed his gaze with reluctance from the fascinating picture, and dropping into the big lounge chair, he lighted a cigarette. He had just placed the match in an ash tray when he heard Sir Charles's voice in the lobby, and a moment later Sir Charles himself came hurrying into the library. His expression was so peculiar that Harley started up immediately, perceiving that something unusual had happened.
"My dear Mr. Harley," began Sir Charles, "in the first place pray accept my apologies"
"None are necessary," Harley interrupted. "Your excellent housekeeper has entertained me vastly."
"Good, good," muttered Sir Charles. "I am obliged to Mrs. Howett," and it was plainly to be seen that his thoughts were elsewhere. "But I have to relate a most inexplicable occurrence—inexplicable unless by some divine accident the plan has been prevented from maturing."
"What do you mean, Sir Charles?"
"I was called ten minutes ago by someone purporting to be the servant of Mr. Chester Wilson, that friend and neighbour whom I have been attending."
"So your butler informed me."
"My dear sir," cried Sir Charles, and the expression in his eyes grew almost wild, "no one in Wilson's house knew anything about the matter!"
"What! It was a ruse?"
