and came ashore for golf. We played together several times, and became
quite friendly. It was not until he began to talk about it that I
remembered there had ever been a Delverton mystery. Practically he gave
me the same history of the case as your report does, missing some points
certainly, but enlarging considerably on others. That the villain had
escaped justice seemed to rankle in his mind, and he was contemptuous of
the intelligence of Scotland Yard. The tragedy, he said, had hastened his
brother's end, and I judged he had no great love for the Morrisons."

"He knew who you were, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes; and included my intelligence in the sneer at Scotland Yard. He
argued the point with me until he forced me to admit that there was a
large element of luck in most of my successes."

"You admitted that?" I exclaimed.

"I did. I had just beaten him three up and two to play, so was in an
angelic frame of mind. Even then he would not let me alone. He wanted to
know how I should have gone to work had the case been in my hands. To
his evident delight I gave him arguments on the lines of our empty room
conferences, making one thing especially clear, that I should have
enquired far more closely about the Morrisons than had been done. This
interested him immensely, and he did not attempt to hide from me the fact
that his suspicions lay in the same direction. He became keen that I
should look into the mystery; indeed, he challenged my skill. I am taking
up that challenge, and I am going to tell the world the truth about
Farrell's death."

"You know it?"