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Rh under the circumstances" He tapped the telegram again.

"What is that thing?" I asked.

"It's a telegram from the police at Marlow. A woman has been murdered in your house."

That aroused me in earnest.

"What colossal cheek," I exclaimed. "Why in my house? Who murdered her?"

"They don't say. I suppose we shall go back to England at once, Sir Eustace?"

"You need suppose nothing of the kind. Why should we go back?"

"The police"

"What on earth have I to do with the police?"

"Well, it was your house."

"That," I said, "appears to be more my misfortune than my fault."

Guy Pagett shook his head gloomily.

"It will have a very unfortunate effect upon the constituency," he remarked lugubriously.

I don't see why it should have—and yet I have a feeling that in such matters Pagett's instincts are always right. On the face of it, a Member of Parliament will be none the less efficient because a stray young woman comes and gets herself murdered in an empty house that belongs to him—but there is no accounting for the view the respectable British public takes of a matter.

"She's a foreigner too, and that makes it worse," continued Pagett gloomily.

Again I believe he is right. If it is disreputable to have a woman murdered in your house, it becomes more disreputable if the woman is a foreigner. Another idea struck me.

"Good heavens," I exclaimed, "I hope this won't upset Caroline."