“In fact,” he continued, “I can’t see my way ahead.... I’m damned if I can.”

 

“If I could help——” I suggested diffidently.

 

But he shook his head very decidedly.

 

“Good of you, doctor. But I can’t let you in on this. I’ve got to play a lone

hand.”

 

He was silent a minute and then repeated in a slightly different tone of voice:—

 

“Yes—I’ve got to play a lone hand....”

 

CHAPTER IV

 

DINNER AT FERNLY

 

It was just a few minutes before half-past seven when I rang the front door bell

of Fernly Park. The door was opened with admirable promptitude by Parker, the

butler.

 

The night was such a fine one that I had preferred to come on foot. I stepped

into the big square hall and Parker relieved me of my overcoat.

 

Just then Ackroyd’s secretary, a pleasant young fellow by the name of Raymond,