"Granberry and he are similar in build." "Who attempted to kill Miss Westfall ?" blazed the Baron, shaking his valet into chattering subjection.
"Excellency, I know not!" protested Themar swallowing painfully.
"There was still another man--he dashed ahead and stole the car." After all, reflected the Baron wryly, in this damnable muddle he must still use Themar.

To antagonize him now would be foolhardy.
Wherefore, with a civil expression of regret at his loss of temper and certain curt instructions, he dismissed Themar, sullen and chastened, and betook himself to an open window, where he sat smoking thoughtfully until the house grew quiet and one by one the lights in the valley faded out.

In the web which had engulfed one by one, himself, Themar, Granberry, Miss Westfall and Poynter, a murderous stranger was floundering.

Who and what he was, it behooved His Excellency to discover.
"It would seem," reflected the Baron with grim humor as he thought of his car and his secretary, "that I am paying heavily for my part in a task not greatly to my liking." In the adjoining room behind locked doors, Themar worked feverishly upon a cipher inscribed upon a soiled linen cuff..