The Agony Column

There was a knock at the door. Bray called "Come!" and a slender boy,

frail but with a military bearing, entered.

"Hello, Walters!" he said, smiling. "What's up? I-"

He stopped suddenly as his eyes fell upon the divan where Fraser-Freer

lay. In an instant he was at the dead man's side.

"Stephen!" he cried in anguish.

"Who are you?" demanded the inspector--rather rudely, I thought.

"It's the captain's brother, sir," put in Walters. "Lieutenant Norman

Fraser-Freer, of the Royal Fusiliers."

There fell a silence.

"A great calamity, sir--" began Walters to the boy.

I have rarely seen any one so overcome as young Fraser-Freer. Watching

him, it seemed to me that the affection existing between him and the man

on the divan must have been a beautiful thing. He turned away from his

brother at last, and Walters sought to give him some idea of what had

happened.

"You will pardon me, gentlemen," said the lieutenant. "This has been a

terrible shock! I didn't dream, of course--I just dropped in for a word

with--with him. And now--"

We said nothing. We let him apologize, as a true Englishman must, for

his public display of emotion.

"I'm sorry," Bray remarked in a moment, his eyes still shifting about

the room--"especially as England may soon have great need of men like

the captain. Now, gentlemen, I want to say this: I am the Chief of the

Special Branch at the Yard. This is no ordinary murder. For reasons

I can not disclose--and, I may add, for the best interests of the

empire--news of the captain's tragic death must be kept for the present

out of the newspapers. I mean, of course, the manner of his going. A

mere death notice, you understand--the inference being that it was a

natural taking off."

"I understand," said the lieutenant, as one who knows more than he

tells.

"Thank you," said Bray. "I shall leave you to attend to the matter, as

far as your family is concerned. You will take charge of the body. As

for the rest of you, I forbid you to mention this matter outside."

And now Bray stood looking, with a puzzled air, at me.

"You are an American?" he said, and I judged he did not care for

Americans.

"I am," I told him.

"Know any one at your consulate?" he demanded.

Thank heaven, I did! There is an under-secretary there named Watson--I

went to college with him. I mentioned him to Bray.