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 board, he proceeded to propound in spasmodic jerks. Beginning with a description of how he had witnessed Beaumanoir’s narrow escape of being run down by Mrs. Talmage Eglinton’s landau, he hinted at the dawn of suspicion in his own mind on finding her immediately afterwards calling at his house, yet strangely silent on having nearly killed a man in the streets. Then, when Forsyth had consulted him after the midnight episode at Beaumanoir House, and had told him of the Duke’s visit on the day of his arrival from New York to someone occupying the next suite at the hotel to that of Mrs. Eglinton, he had been fairly certain of his clue. Having satisfied himself by personal observation that the ducal mansion in Piccadilly was closely watched, he had set himself the task of establishing a connection between the soi-disant widow and her neighbor at the hotel—a task which had been successful so far as convincing himself went.

Forsyth recognized that, for all the mischance of the evening, his uncle had put in some good detective work, and said so. “You must have been quick, too,” he added. “Is it permitted to ask how you managed it?”

“It was very simple,” the General replied,