"I remember," he said; "you were staying at Mallory, weren't you, when that sad affair to poor Kynaston happened?"
"Yes."
Sir Allan moved his chair a little, as though to escape from the warmth of the fire, and sat where the heavily shaded lamp left his face in the shadow.
"Yes, that was a terrible affair," he said in a low tone; "and a very mysterious one. Nothing has ever been heard of the murderer, I suppose?"
"Nothing."
"And there are no rumors, no suspicions?"
Mr. Thurwell looked uneasily around, as though to satisfy himself that there were no servants lingering in the room.
"It is scarcely a thing to be talked about," he said slowly; "but there have been things said."
"About whom?"
"About my tenant at Falcon's Nest—Bernard Maddison, as he turned out to be."