«Who is it, Mr. Blore? That’s what I want to know. Who is it?»

Rogers’ face was working. His hands were clenched round the polishing leather that he held in his hand.

Ex-Inspector Blore said: «Eh, my lad, that’s the question!»

«One of us, ‘is lordship said. Which one? That’s what I want to know. Who’s the fiend in ‘uman form?»

«That,» said Blore, «is what we all would like to know.»

Rogers said shrewdly: «But you’ve got an idea, Mr. Blore. You’ve got an idea, ‘aven’t you?»

«I may have an idea,» said Blore slowly. «But that’s a long way from being sure. I may be wrong. All I can say is that if I’m right the person in question is a very cool customer – a very cool customer indeed.»

Rogers wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He said hoarsely:

«It’s like a bad dream, that’s what it is.»

Blore said, looking at him curiously: «Got any ideas yourself, Rogers?»

The butler shook his head. He said hoarsely:

«I don’t know. I don’t know at all. And that’s what’s frightening the life out of me. To have no idea…»