apparently puzzled, but not alarmed.
“‘You must remember the names of the Englishmen,’ I urged. ‘Try to think. When you announced them to the Princess what name did you give?’
“At this question he exclaimed with pleasure, and, beckoning to me, ran hurriedly down the hall and into the drawing-room. In the corner furthest from the screen was the piano, and on it was a silver tray. He picked this up and, smiling with pride at his own intelligence, pointed at two cards that lay upon it. I took them up and read the names engraved upon them.”
The American paused abruptly, and glanced at the faces about him. “I read the names,” he repeated. He spoke with great reluctance.
“Continue!” cried the Baronet, sharply.
“I read the names,” said the American with evident distaste, “and the family name of each was the same. They were the names of two brothers. One is well known to you. It is that of the African explorer of whom this gentleman was just speaking. I mean the Earl of Chetney. The other was the name of his brother, Lord Arthur Chetney.”
The men at the table fell back as though a trapdoor had fallen open at their feet.
“Lord Chetney!” they exclaimed in chorus. They glanced at each other and back to the American with every expression of concern and disbelief.
“It is impossible!” cried the Baronet. “Why, my dear sir, young Chetney only arrived from Africa yesterday. It was so stated in the evening papers.”
The jaw of the American set in a resolute square, and he pressed his lips together.
“You are perfectly right, sir,” he said, “Lord Chetney did arrive in London yesterday morning, and yesterday night I found his dead body.”
The youngest member present was the first to recover. He seemed much less concerned over the identity of the murdered man than at the interruption of the narrative.
“Oh, please let him go on!” he cried. “What happened then? You say you found two visiting cards. How do you know which card was that of the murdered man?”
The American, before
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