CHAPTER XV The present holder. Mr. Paul turned sharply. On his companion as Viner pulled him up. He saw the direction of Viner's suddenly arrested gaze, and looked from him to the two men, who had now walked down the steps of the house and were advancing towards them. What is it? He asked. Those fellows are coming away from Lord Ellingham's house. You seem to know them. One of them, murmured Viner, the clean shaven man, looked at him. The two men came on in close, evidently absorbed conversation, passed Mr. Paul and Viner without as much as a glance at them, and went along in the direction of Park Lane. Well, demanded Mr. Paul. The clean shaven man is the man I told you of, the man who was in conversation with Ashton at that tavern in Notting Hill, the night Ashton was murdered, answered Viner. The other man, I don't know. Mr. Paul turned and looked after the retreating figures. You're sure of that, he asks. Certain, replied Viner, I should know him anywhere. Mr. Paul came to another halt, glancing first at the two men, now well up the street and then at the somewhat somber front of Ellingham house. Now, this is an extraordinary thing, Viner. He exclaimed, There's the man who, you say, was with Ashton not very long before he came to his end, and we find him coming away, presumably from Lord Ellingham, certainly from Lord Ellingham's house. What on earth does it mean? And I wonder who the man is. What I'd like to know, said Viner, is who is the other man? But as you say, it is certainly a very curious thing that we should find the first man evidently in touch with Lord Ellingham, considering our recent discoveries. But what are you going to do? Going in here, affirmed Mr. Paul to the fountain head, we may get to know something. Have you a card? The footmen who took the cards looked doubtfully at them and their presenters. I think Lordship is just going out, he said glancing over his shoulder. I don't know. Mr. Paul pointed to the name of his firm at the corner of his card. I think Lord Ellingham will see me, he said, Tell his Lordship I shall not detain him many minutes if he will be kind enough to give me an interview. The man went away to return in a few minutes and to lead the collars into a room at the rear of the hall, wherein, his back to the fire, his look and attitude, one of puzzled surprise, stood a very young man, dressed in the height of fashion, who, as his servant had said, was obviously just ready to go out. Viner, remembering what had brought him and Mr. Paul there, looked at Lord Ellingham closely. He seemed to be frank, ingenious, and decidedly youthful. But there was something decidedly practical and businesslike in his greeting of his visitors. I'm afraid I can't give you very long, Mr. Paul, he said, glancing instinctively at the old lawyer. I have a most important engagement in half an hour and it won't be put off, but I can give you ten minutes. I am deeply obliged to your Lordship, answered Mr. Paul, as your Lordship will have seen from my card. I am one of the partners in Crawl, Paul and Rattenbury, a firm not at all unknown, I think. Allow me to introduce my friend and Mr. Viner, a gentleman who is deeply concerned and interested in the matter I want to mention to your Lordship. Lord Ellingham responded politely to Viner's bow and drew two chairs forward. Sit down, Mr. Paul, sit down, Mr. Viner, he said. He dropped into a chair near a desk, which stood in the centre of the room and looked interrogatively at his elder visitor. Have you some business to discuss, Mr. Paul? he asked. Some business, my Lord, which I confess at once, is of extraordinary nature. Answer the old lawyer. I will go straight to it. Your Lordship has doubtless read in the newspapers of the murder of a man named Ashton in Lonsdale Passage in the Bayswater District. Lord Ellingham glanced at a pile of newspapers which lay on a side table. Yes, he answered, I have, I have been much interested in it as a murder, a curious and mysterious case, don't you think? We, replied Mr. Paul waving a hand toward Viner, know it to be a much more mysterious case than anybody could gather from the newspaper accounts, for they know little who have written them, and we, who are behind the scenes, know a great deal. Now your Lordship will have seen that a young man, an actor named Langton Hyde, has been arrested and charged and is on remand. This unfortunate fellow was an old schoolmate of Mr. Viner. They were at rugby together, and Mr. Viner, and I may say I myself also, is convinced beyond doubt of his entire innocence, and we want to clear him. We are doing all we can to clear him. And it is because of this that we have ventured to call on your Lordship. Oh! exclaimed Lord Ellingham, but what can I do? How do I come in? For my Lord, said Mr. Paul in his most solemn manner, I will go straight to this point also. We have reason to feel sure, from undoubted evidence, that Mr. John Ashton, a very wealthy man who had recently come from Australia where he had lived for a great many years, to settle here in London had in his possession when he was murdered certain highly important papers relating to your Lordship's family, and that he was murdered for the sake of them. The puzzled expression which Viner had noted in Lord Ellingham's boyish face when they entered the room grew more and more marked as Mr. Paul proceeded, and he turned on the old lawyer at the end with a stare of amazement. You really think that? he exclaimed. I shall be very much surprised if I am not right, declared Mr. Paul. But what papers? asked Lord Ellingham, and what, how could this, Mr. Ashton, who you say, came from Australia be in possession of papers relating to my family I never heard of him? Your Lordship, said Mr. Paul, is doubtless well aware that some years ago there was a very strange, shall we call it, romance in your family? A very remarkable episode, anyway, a most unusual. You mean the strange disappearance of my uncle, this Lord Market Stoke? Interrupted Lord Ellingham with a smile, oh, of course, I know all about that. Very well, my Lord, continued Mr. Paul. When your Lordship is aware that Lord Market Stoke was believed to have gone to the colonies, Australia or New Zealand, and was, lost there, his death was presumed, now Ashton came from Australian and, as I say, will believe him to have brought with him certain highly important papers relative to Lord Market Stoke whom we think to have been well known to him at one time. Indeed, we felt sure that Ashton knew Lord Market Stoke's secret. Now my Lord, we are also confident that whoever killed John Ashton did so in order to get hold of certain papers which, I feel certain Ashton made, a habit of carrying on his person, papers relating to his friend Lord Market Stoke's identity. Lord Ellingham remained silent for a moment, looking from one visitor to another. It was very clear to Viner that some train of thought had been aroused in him and that he was closely pursuing it. He fixed his gaze at last on the old lawyer. Mr. Paul, he said quietly, have you any proof, undoubted proof, that Mr. Ashton did possess papers relating to my long-missing uncle? Yes, answered Mr. Paul, I have. He pulled out the bundle of papers which he and Viner had unearthed from the Japanese cabinet. This it is a packet of letters written by the Seventh Countess of Ellingham to her elder son, the Lord Market Stoke we are talking of, when he was a boy at Eaton. Your lordship will probably recognize your grandmother's handwriting. Lord Ellingham bent over the letter which Mr. Paul spread before him. Yes, he said I know the writing quite well, and these were in Mr. Ashton's possession. We have just found them, Mr. Viner and I, in a cabinet in his house, replied Mr. Paul. They are the only papers we have so far been able to bring to light, but as I have said we are convinced there were others, much more important ones, in his possession, probably in his pocket-book. Lord Ellingham handed the letters back. You think that this Mr. Ashton was in possession of a secret relating to the missing man, my uncle Lord Market Stoke, he asked? I am convinced of it, declared Mr. Paul. Lord Ellingham glanced shrewdly at his visitors, I should like to know what it was, he said. Your lordship feels as I do, remarked Mr. Paul, but now I should like to ask a question which arises out of this visit. As we approached your lordship's door, just now, we saw leaving it two men. One of them, my friend Mr. Viner, immediately recognized, he does not know who the man is. Which of the two men do you mean? Interrupted Lord Ellingham, I may as well say that they had just left me. The clean-shaven man answered Viner. Oh, Mr. Viner knows for a fact, to have been in Ashton's company only an hour or so before Ashton's murder. Lord Ellingham looked at Viner in obvious surprise, but you do not know who he is. He exclaimed, No, replied Viner, I don't, but there is no doubt of the truth of what Mr. Paul has just said. This man was certainly with Mr. Ashton at a tavern in Notting Hill from about 9.30 to 10.30 on the evening of Ashton's death. It, in fact, they left the tavern together. The young nobleman suddenly pulled open a drawer in his desk, produced a box of cigarettes, and silently offered it to his visitors. He lighted a cigarette himself, and for a moment smoked in silence. It seemed to Viner that his youthful face had grown unusually grave and thoughtful. Mr. Paul, he said at last, I am immensely surprised by what you've told me, and all the more so, because this is the second surprise I've had this afternoon. I may as well tell you that the two gentlemen whom you saw going away just now brought me some very astonishing news. Yours comes right on top of it. And if you please, I'd rather not say any more about it just now, but I am going to make a proposal to you. Will you and Mr. Viner, if you'll be so good, meet me to more mornings, say at noon, at my solicitor's offices? With pleasure, responded Mr. Paul, your lordship's solicitors are? Carlos and driver, Lincoln's in fields, answered Lord Ellingham. Friends of ours, said Mr. Paul, we will meet your lordship there at twelve o'clock to the minute. And you'll bring that with you, suggested Lord Ellingham pointing to the packet of letters which Mr. Paul held in his hand. Just so, my lord, assented Mr. Paul, and we'll be ready to tell all we know, for there are further details. Outside the house, the old lawyer-gripped Viner's elbow. That boy knows something, he said with a meaning smile. He's astute enough for his age, smart youngster, but what does he know? Those two men have told him something. Viner, we must find out who that clean-shaven man is. I have some idea that I have seen him before. I shouldn't be at all surprised if he's a solicitor. We may have seen him in some court or other. But in that case I wonder he didn't recognize me. He didn't look at you, replied Viner. He and the other men were too much absorbed in whatever it was they were talking about. I have been wondering since I first saw him at the tavern. He continued, if I ought not to tell them please what I know about him, I mean, that he was certainly in Ashton's company on the evening of the murder. What do you think? I think not at present, replied Mr. Paul. It seems evident, unless indeed it was all a piece of bluff, and it may have been that this man is or was when you saw him, just as ignorant as the landlord of that place was, that the men who used to drop in there and Ashton were one and the same person. No, let the police go on their own lines. We're on others. We shall hear of this man again, whoever he is. Now I must get back to my office. Come there at half past eleven tomorrow morning. Viner and we'll go on to Carles and Drivers. Viner went thoughtfully homeward, ruminating over the events of the day, and entered his house to find his two guests, the sisters of the unlucky Hyde in floods of tears and Miss Pankridge looking unusually grave. The elder Miss Hyde sprang up at sight of him and held a tear-soaked handkerchief towards him in pantomimic appeal. Oh, Mr. Viner! She exclaimed, you are so kind and so clever. I'm sure you'll see a way out of this. It looks oh so very black and so very much against him. But oh dear, Mr. Viner, there must be some explanation. But what is it?" asked Viner, looking from one to the other. What has happened? Has anyone been here? Miss Pankridge silently handed to her nephew an early edition of one of the evening newspapers and pointed to a paragraph in large type, and Viner rapidly read it over to the accompaniment of the younger Miss Hyde's sobs. A sensational discovery in connection with the recent murder of Mr. Ashton in Lonsdale Passage base water was made in the early hours of this morning. Charles Fisher, a greengrocer carrying on business in the Harrow Road, found in his woodshed concealed in a nook in the wall a parcel containing Mr. Ashton's gold watch and chain and a diamond ring. He immediately communicated with the police, and these valuables are now in their possession. It will be remembered that Langton Hyde, the young actor who is charged with murder and who is now on remand stated at the coroner's inquest that he passed the night on which the crime was committed in a shed in this neighborhood. Viner read the news twice over, then a sudden idea occurred to him and he turned to leave the room. I don't think you need to be particularly alarmed about this. He said to the weeping sisters, cheer up till I return. I am going round to the police. End of Chapter 15. The Present Holder. Chapter 16. Of the Middle of Things. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Middle of Things by J. S. Fletcher. Chapter 16. The Out-House. Near the police station, Viner fell in with his solicitor, Felfam, who turned a corner in a great hurry. Felfam's first glance showed his client that their purposes were in common. "'Seen that paragraph in the evening papers?' said Felfam, without preface. "'By George! That's serious news. What a pity that Hyde ever made that statement about his doings on the night of the murder. It would have been far better if he'd held his tongue altogether.' He insisted on it in the end, answered Viner, and in my opinion he was right. But do you think this is very serious?' "'Serious? Yes,' exclaimed Felfam. He says he spent the night in a shed in the Harrow Road District. Now the things that were taken from Ashton's body are discovered in such a place. Nay, the very place, for if you remember, Hyde particularised his whereabouts. What's the obvious conclusion? What can anybody think?' "'I see two or three obvious conclusions, and I think several things,' remarked Viner. "'I'll tell you what they are when you've seen Drilford. I'm not alarmed about this discovery, Felfam. I think it may lead to finding the real murderer.' "'You see further than I do, then,' muttered Felfam. "'I only see that it's highly dangerous to Hyde's interests, and I want first-handed information about it.' Drilford, discovered alone in his office, smiled as the two men walked in. There was an irritating, I told you so, air about him. "'Ah,' he said, I see you gentlemen have been reading the afternoon papers. What do you think about your friend now, Mr. Viner?' "'Precisely what I thought before and shall continue to think,' retorted Viner. I have seen no reason to alter my opinion. "'Oh, but I guess Mr. Felfam doesn't think that way,' replied Drilford, with a shrewd glance at the solicitor. Mr. Felfam knows the value of evidence, I believe. "'What is it that's been found exactly?' asked Felfam. Drilford opened a locked drawer, lifted aside a sheet of cardboard, and revealed a fine gold watch and chain and a diamond ring. These lay on two or three sheets of much crumpled paper of a peculiar quality. "'There you are,' said Drilford. Those belonged to Mr. Ashton. There's his name on the watch and a mark of his inside the ring. They were found early this morning, hidden in the very place in which Hyde confessed that he spent most of the night after Ashton's murder, a shed belonging to one fisher, a greengrocer, up the Harrow Road. "'Who found them?' demanded Felfam. "'Fisher himself,' answered Drilford. He was pottering about in his shed before going to Covent Garden. He wanted some empty boxes and in pulling things about, he found these. He couldn't have made a more important find, I think. "'Where are these things loose?' asked Viner. "'Wrapped it loosely in the paper there lying on,' replied Drilford. Viner took the paper out of the drawer, examined it, and lifted it to his nose. "'I wonder if Hyde really did put those things there?' he said. How Hyde came to be caring about with him these sheets of paper which had certainly been used before for the wrappings of chemicals or drugs.' Felfam pricked his ears. "'Eh?' he said. "'What's that?' "'Smell for yourself,' answered Viner. "'Let the inspector smell, too.' "'I draw the attention to both of you to the fact, because we'll raise that point whenever it's necessary. Those papers have at some time been used to wrap some strong-smelling drug.' "'No doubt of it,' said Felfam, who was applying the papers to his nose, called them, Drilford, as Mr. Viner says, what would Hyde be doing with this stuff in his pocket?' "'That's a mere detail,' remarked Drilford impatiently. "'These chaffs that Mooch about as Hyde was doing pick up all sorts of odds and ends. He may have pinched them from a chemist's shop. Anyway, there's the fact that we'll hang him on it, you'll see.' "'We shall never see anything of the sort,' said Viner. "'You're on the wrong tack, inspector. Let me put two or three things to your intelligence. Where's Ashton's purse?  Mrs. Killinghall and Miss Wickham saw him take it out just before he left to give some cash to the parlor-maid, and they saw him replace it in his trousers' pocket. I also know for another fact where he spent money that evening. In short, I know now a good deal about his movements for some hours before his death. And you ought to tell us, Mr. Viner. So drill for it a little sockily. You ought not to keep any information to yourself.' "'You are going on the wrong tack, or I might,' retorted Viner. But you'll know all in good time. Now I ask you again where's Ashton's purse. You know as well as I do that when his clothing was examined, almost immediately after his death, all his effects were gone. Watch, chain, rings, pocketbook, purse. If Hyde took the whole lot, do you think he would ever have been such a consummate-ass as to wait until next morning to pawn that ring in Edgware Road? The idea is preposterous.' "'And why, pray?' Demanded Drilford obviously nettle at the turn which the conversation was taking. "'I wonder your own common sense doesn't tell you,' said Viner, with intentional directness. If Hyde took everything from his victim, as you say he did, he would have had a purse full of ready money. He could have gone off to some respectable lodging-house. You could have put a hundred miles between himself and London by breakfast time. He would have had ready money to last him for months. But he was starving when he went to the pawnbrokers. Hyde told you the truth. He never had anything but that ring.' "'Good,' muttered Feltham, "'Good, Viner! That's one in the eye for you, Drilford.' "'Another thing that you're forgetting, Inspector,' continued Viner, "'I suppose you attach some value to probabilities. Do you, as a sensible man, believe for one moment that Hyde, placed in the position he is, would be such a fool, such a societal fool, as to tell you about that particular shed if he'd really hidden those things there? The mere idea is absurd, ridiculous.' "'Good again, Viner,' said Feltham. He wouldn't.' "'Drilford, obviously ill-pleased, put the strong-smelling paper and the valuables which had been wrapped in it, back in the drawer and turned the key. All very well talking and theorizing, Mr. Viner,' he said sullenly. We know from his own lips that Hyde did spend the night in that shed, if he didn't put these things there, who did?' Viner gave him a steady look. "'The man who murdered and robbed Ashton,' he answered, and that man was not Hyde. "'You'll have that to prove,' retorted Drilford derisively. I know what a jurial think with all these evidence before it. "'We shall prove a good many things that'll surprise you,' said Viner quietly, and you'll see then the foolishness of jumping at what seems to be an obvious conclusion.' He motioned Feltham to follow and going outside turned in the direction of the Harrow Road. "'I am going to have a look at the place where these things were found,' he said. "'Come with me. You see for yourself,' he continued as they walked on, how ridiculous it is to suppose that Hyde planted them. The whole affair is plain enough to me. The real murderer, Red, or may have heard Hyde's statement before the coroner, and in order to strengthen the case against Hyde, and divert suspicion from himself, sought out this shed and put the things there. Clumsy! If Hyde had ever had the purse, which more certainly disappeared with the rest of the property, he'd never have gone to that shed at all. "'We'll make the most of all that,' said Feltham, but I gathered from what you said just now to Drilford, that you know more about this case than you've let out. If it's in Hyde's favour—' "'I can't tell you what I know,' answered Viner, "'I do know some strange things which will all come out in good time. If we bring the murderer home to the right a man, Hyde, of course, will be cleared. I'll tell everything as soon as I can,' fell them. They walked quickly forward until they came to the higher part of the horror road. There, at a crowded point of that dismal thoroughfare, where the shops were small and mean, Feltham suddenly lifted a finger towards a sign which hung over an open front, filled with the cheaper sorts of vegetables. "'Here's the place,' he said, a corner shop. The shed, of course, will be somewhere behind.' Viner looked with interest at the refuge which Hyde had chosen after his hurried flight from the scene of the murder. A shabby-looking street ran down from the corner of the greengrocer's shop. The first twenty yards of it, on that side, were filled with palings, more or less broken and dilapidated. Behind them lay a yard in which stood a van, two or three barrows, a collection of boxes and baskets and crates, and a lean-to shed built against the wall of the adjoining house. The door of this yard hung loosely on its rusty hinges. Viner saw at once that nothing could be easier than for a man to slip into this miserable shelter unseen. "'Let's get hold of the tenant,' he said. "'Better show him your card, and then he'll know we're on professional business.' The greengrocer, a dull-looking fellow who was measuring potatoes, showed no great interest on hearing what his callers wanted. Summoning his wife to mind the shop, he led Viner and fell from round the yard and opened the door of the shed. This was as untidy as the yard and filled with a similar collection of boxes, baskets and crates. In one corner lay a bundle of empty potato sacks. The greengrocer at once pointed to it. "'I reckon that's where the fellow got a bit of sleep that night,' he said. "'There was nothing to prevent him getting in here. No locks or bolts on either's gate of the yard or that door. He may have been in here many a night, for all I know.' "'Where did you find those valuables this morning?' asked Viner. The greengrocer pointed to a shelf in a corner above the bundle of sacking. "'There,' he answered, "'I wanted some small boxes to take down to Covent Garden, and in turning some of these over I came across a little parcel wrapped in paper, slipped under a box that was turned top downwards on the shelf, you understand. So, of course, I opened it, and there was the watch and chain and ring.' "'Just fold it in the papers that you handed to the police?' suggested Viner. "'Well, there was more paper about him than what I gave to Inspector Drillford,' said the greengrocer. "'A well-wrapped a bit of parcel it was. There's the rest of the paper there where I threw it down.' He pointed to some loose sheets of paper which lay on the sacking, and Viner went forward, picked them up, looked quickly at them, and put them in his pocket. "'I suppose you never heard anything about that night?' he asked, turning to the greengrocer. "'Not I,' the man replied. I sleep too sound to hear out of that sort. There's nothing in here that's of any value. Noah doesn't folk could come into this yard at night, and we shouldn't hear him. We sleep at the front of the house.' Viner slipped some silver into the greengrocer's hand, and led Falfam away, and when they reached a quieter part of the district he pulled out the papers which he had picked out of the corn in the shed and held them in front of his companion's eyes. "'We did some good in coming up here after all, Falfam,' he said, with a grim smile. It wasn't a mere desire to satisfy idle curiosity that made me come. I thought I might, by sheer good luck, hit on something or some idea that would help. Now then, look at these things. That's a piece of newspaper from out of a copy of the Melbourne Argus of September 6th to last. Likely think for Langton Hyde to be carrying in his pocket, eh?' "'Good heavens, that's certainly important,' exclaimed Falfam. And so is this, and perhaps much more so,' said Viner, making a second exhibit. That's a sheet of brown-wrapping paper with the name and address of a famous firm of wholesale drugists and chemical manufacturers on one side printed. It's another likely thing for Hyde to possess and to carry about, isn't it?' "'And the same bitter penetrating smell about it,' said Falfam. Hyde, of course, if Drilford is correct, had all this paper in his pocket when he went into that shed,' said Viner. "'But I have a different idea, and a different theory. Here,' he went on, folding his discoveries together neatly, "'you take charge of these and take care of them. They may be of more importance than we think.' He went home full of thought, restored the sisters to something like cheerfulness by assuring them that the situation was no worse and possibly rather better, and spent the rest of the evening in his study silently working things out. Viner, by the time he went to bed, had evolved an idea, and it was still developing and growing stronger when he set out next morning to accompany Mr. Paul's to Lord Ellingham's solicitors. CHAPTER XVII THE CLAIMANT House and driver practiced their profession of the law in one of the old houses on the south side of Lincoln's Inn Fields, a house so old that it immediately turned Viner's thought to what he had read of the days wherein Inigo Jones exercised his art up the state leaf frontages and duels were fought in the gardens which London children now sport in. In one of these houses lived Blackstone in another Earthskin, one ancient roof once sheltered John Milton, another heard the laughter of Nell Gwynne. Up the panelled staircase which Mr. Paul and his companion were presently conducted the feet of many generations had trod, and the room into which they were duly conducted was so old-world in appearance with its oaken walls and carving and old-fashioned furniture that nothing but the fact that its occupants wore 20th century garments would have convinced Viner that he had not been suddenly thrown back to the days of Queen Anne. Lord Ellingham was already there when they arrived, in conference with his solicitor, Mr. Carlos, a plump, rosy, active gentleman who wore mutton chop whiskers and, secretly, prided himself on his likeness to the type of fox-hunting squire. It was very evident to Viner that both solicitor and client were in a state of expectancy bordering on something very like excitement, and Mr. Carlos, the preliminary greetings being over, plunged at once into the subject. I say Paul, he exclaimed, turning at once to his fellow practitioner. This appears to be a most extraordinary business. His lordship has just been telling me all about the two calls he had yesterday, first from two men whom he had never seen before, then from you two who were also strangers. He has also told me what both lots of his callers had to say, and hang me if I ever heard of two such curious unfoldings coming one on top of the other. Sounds like a first-class mystery. You forget, remarked Mr. Paul with a glance at Lord Ellingham, that we don't know, Mr. Viner and myself, what it was that his lordship's first couple of callers told him. He left that until today. Mr. Carlos looked at his client, who nodded his head as if in ascent to something in the glance. Well, as I'm now in possession of the facts, said he, I'll tell you, Paul, his lordship has given me a clear account of what his first callers said and what you and Mr. Viner added to it. The two men whom you saw coming away from Ellingham house were Methly and Woodlesford, two solicitors who are in partnership in Edgware Road. I know of them. I think we've had conveyancing business with them once or twice. Quite a respectable firm in a smallish way, you know. But all right, so far as I know anything of them. Now they came to Lord Ellingham yesterday, afternoon with a most extraordinary story. His lordship tells me that he learned from your talk with him yesterday afternoon, that you are pretty well acquainted, you and Mr. Viner, with his family history, so I'll go straight to the point. What do you think Methly and Woodlesford came to tell him? You'd never guess. I won't try, answered Mr. Paul. What then? Mr. Carlos smiled grimly, that the long-lost Lord Marketstoke was alive and in England, he said, here, in fact, in London. Mr. Paul smiled, too, but his smile was not grim. It was, rather, the smile of a man who hears what he has been expecting to hear. I thought it would be something of that sort, he exclaimed. I, I fancied, that would be the game. You think it a game, suggested Mr. Carlos, and a highly dangerous one, as somebody will find out, responded Mr. Paul. But what did these fellows really say? His lordship will correct me if I miss anything pertinent, answered Mr. Carlos with a glance at his client. They said this, that they had been called upon by a gentleman now staying at one of the private residential hotels in Lancaster Gate. Who was desirous of legal assistance? In an important matter, and had been recommended to them by a fellow boarder at the hotel. He then told them that though he was now passing under the name of Cave... Ah! exclaimed Mr. Paul with a snort which denoted a certain sort of surprise satisfaction. Ah! To be sure. Cave, of course! But I interrupt you. Pray proceed. I see your point, remarked Mr. Carlos with a smile. Well although he was passing under the name of Cave, he was in strict reality the lord market-stoke who disappeared from England many years ago, who was never heard of again, and whose death had been presumed. He was therefore the rightful Earl of Ellingham, and as such entitled to the estates, he proceeded to tell Methly and Wittlesford his adventures. He had, he said, never at any time from boyhood been on good terms with his father, there had always been mutual dislike. As he grew to manhood his father had thwarted him in every conceivable way. He himself, as a young man, had developed radical and democratic ideas. This had caused a further widening of the breach. Finally he had made up his mind to clear out of England altogether. He had a modest amount of money of his own, a few thousands which had been left him by his mother. So he took this, and quietly disappeared. According to his own account he became a good deal of a rolling stone, going to various out-of-the-way parts of the earth, and taking particular pains wherever he went to conceal his identity. He told these people, Methly and Wittlesford, that he had at one time or another lived and traded in South Africa, India, China, Japan, and the Melai settlement. Finally he had settled down in Australia. He had kept himself familiar with events at home, knew of his father's death, and he saw no end of advertisements for himself. He was aware that legal proceedings were taken as regards to the presumption of his death and the administration of the estates. He was also aware of the death of his younger brother, and that title and estates were now in possession of his nephew, his lordship there. In fact he was very well up in the whole story, according to Methly and Wittlesford, said Mr. Carlos with a smile, and Lord Ellingham believed that Methly and Wittlesford were genuinely convinced by him. Seemed so anyway, both of them, agreed Lord Ellingham. However, continued Mr. Carlos. Methly and Wittlesford, like you and I, Paul, are limbs of the law. They asked two very pertinent questions. First, why had he come forward after this long interval? Second, what evidence had he to support and prove his claim? Good, muttered Mr. Paul, and I'll be bound he had some excellent replies ready for them. He had, said Mr. Carlos. He answered as regards the first question that of late things had not gone well with him. He was still comfortably off, but he had lost a lot of money in Australia through speculation. He replied to the second by producing certain papers and documents. Ah! exclaimed Mr. Paul, nudging viner, now we're warming to it. And according to what Methly and Wittlesford told Lord Ellingham continued Mr. Carlos. These papers and documents are of a very convincing nature. They said to his lord frankly that they were greatly surprised by them. They had thought that this man might possibly be a bogus claimant, who had somehow gained a thorough knowledge of the facts he was narrating, but the papers he produced, which he alleged had never been out of his possession since his secret flight from London, were well staggering. After inspecting them, Methly and Wittlesford came to the conclusion that their caller really was what he claimed to be the missing man. What were the papers? demanded Mr. Paul. Oh! replied Mr. Carlos, looking at his client. Letters, certificates, and the like, all according to Methly and Wittlesford excellent proofs of identity. Did they show them to your lordship? asked Mr. Paul. Oh! no! they only told me of them! answered Lord Ellingham. They said, of course, that they would be shown to me or to Mr. Carlos. Aye! muttered Mr. Paul. Just so. Yes, and they will have to be shown. That follows as a matter of course, observed Mr. Carlos. But now, Paul, we come to the real point of the case. Methly and Wittlesford, having informed his lordship of all this when they called on him, yesterday afternoon, then proceeded to tell him precisely what their client, the claimant, as we will now call him really wanted, for he had been at some pains, considerable pains, to make himself clear on that point to them. And he desired them to make themselves clear to Lord Ellingham, whom he threw out, referred to as his nephew. He had no desire, he told them, to recover his title, nor the estates. He did not care ascent, his own phrase, for the title. He was now sixty years of age. The life he had lived had quite unfitted him for the positions and duties of an English nobleman. He wanted to go back to the country in which he had settled. But as title and estates really were his, he wanted, his nephew, the present holder, to make him a proper payment, in consideration of the receipt of which he would engage to preserve the silence which he had already kept so thoroughly and effectively for thirty-five years. In plain language, said Mr. Paul, he wanted to be bought. Precisely, agreed Mr. Carles. Of course, Methly and Wittlesford didn't quite put it in that light. They put it that their client had no wish to disturb his nephew, but suggested kindly that his nephew should make him a proper payment out of his abundance. Mr. Paul turned to Lord Ellingham. Did they mention a sum to your lordship? He asked. Yes, replied Lord Ellingham with a smile at Carles. They did, tentatively. How much? asked Mr. Paul. One hundred thousand pounds. On receipt of which, I suppose, observed Mr. Paul dryly, nothing would ever be heard again of your lordship's long-lost uncle, the rightful owner of all that your lordship possesses. Lord Ellingham laughed, so I gathered. He answered. I wish I had been present when Methly and Wittlesford put forward that proposition. exclaimed the old lawyer. Did they seem serious? Oh, I think they were quite serious, replied Lord Ellingham. They seemed so. They spoke of it as what they called a domestic arrangement. Excellent phrase, remarked Mr. Paul, and what said your lordship to there, or the claimant's proposition? I told them that the matter was so serious that they and I must see my solicitors about it. I answered Lord Ellingham, and I arranged to meet them here at one o'clock today. They quite agreed that that was the proper thing to do, and went away. Then you and Mr. Viner called. With, I understand, another extraordinary story, remarked Mr. Carles, the particulars of which his lordship has also told me.  Mr. Paul smote his clenched right fist on the palm of his open left hand. I will tell you what I say, Carles, he exclaimed with emphasis. I say that whatever the papers and documents were which were produced by this man to Methley and Wittlesford, they were stolen from the body of John Ashton, who was foully murdered in Lonsdale Passage only last week. I'll stake all I have on that. Now, then, did this claimant steal them? Did he murder John Ashton for them? No, a thousand times no, for no man would have been such a fool as to come forward with them so soon after his victim's death. This claimant doesn't know how or where or when they were obtained. He doesn't suspect that murders in it. Now, then, where did he get them? Who's at the back of him? Who to be plain? Who's marking a cat's paw of him? Find that out, and we shall know who murdered John Ashton. Viner, glancing at Lord Ellingham and at Mr. Carles, saw that Mr. Paul's words had impressed them greatly. He nodded sympathetically, and Mr. Paul went on speaking. Listen here, Carles, he continued, Mr. Viner and I have been investigating this case as far as we could, largely to save a man whom we both believed to be absolutely innocent of murder. I have come to certain conclusions. John Ashton many years ago fell in with the missing Lord Marketstoke, then living under the name of Wickham in Australia, and they became close friends. At some time or other Wickham told Ashton the real truth about himself, and when he died, left his little daughter. Carles looked sharply around. Ah! he exclaimed. So there's a daughter! There is a daughter, and her name is Avis, a name born by a good many women of the cave-grey family, answered Mr. Paul with a significant glance at his fellow practitioner. But let me go on. John left his daughter, her mother being dead, in Ashton's guardianship. She was then about six years of age. Ashton sent her to school here in England. About twelve or thirteen years later he came home and settled in Markendale Square. He brought Avis Wickham to live with him. He handed over to her a considerable sum which he said her father had left in his hands for her. And then, secretly, Ashton went down to Marketstoke and evidently made certain inquiries and investigations. Whether he was going to reveal the truth as to what I have just told you we don't know, probably he was. But he was murdered, and we all know when and where. And I say he was murdered for the sake of these very papers, which we now know were produced to Methly and Woodlesford by this claimant. Now, then. Mr. Carles suddenly bent forward. A moment, Paul. He said, if this man Wickham really was the lost Lord Marketstoke and he is dead, and he left a daughter, and the daughter is alive, well, demanded Mr. Paul well. Why, then, of course, that daughter, said Mr. Carles slowly, that daughter is. A clerk opened the door and glanced at his employer. Mr. Methly and Mr. Woodlesford, sir, he announced, by appointment. End of Chapter 17. The Claimant. Chapter 18 of The Middle of Things. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Middle of Things by J. S. Fletcher, Chapter 18. Let him appear. The meeting between the solicitor suggested to the miner and to Lord Ellingham, who looked on curiously, while they exchanged formal greetings and explanations, a certain solemnity, each of them seemed to imply in look and manner that this was an unusually grave occasion, and Mr. Carles, assuming the direction of things, became almost judicial in his deportment. Well, gentlemen, he said, when they had all gathered about his desk, Lord Ellingham has informed me of what passed between you and himself at his house yesterday. In plain language, the client whom you represent claims to be the Lord Market Stoke who disappeared so completely many years ago, and therefore the rightful arrow of Ellingham. Now, a first question. Do you, as his legal advisers, believe in his claim? Judging by the proofs with which he has furnished us, yes, answered methodally, there seems to be no doubt of it. We'll ask for these proofs presently, remarked Mr. Carles. But now a further question. Your client, whom we'll now call the claimant, had, I understand, no desire to take up his rightful position, and suggests that the secret shall remain a secret, and that he shall be paid a hundred thousand pounds to hold his tongue? If you put it that way, yes, replied methodally. I don't know in what other way it could be put, said Mr. Carles grimly. It's the plain truth. But now, if Lord Ellingham refuses that offer, does your client intend to commence proceedings? Our instructions are, yes, answered methodally. Very good, said Mr. Carles. Now then, what are these proofs?  I have them here, said Wuddlesford. Our client entrusted them to us, so that we might show them to Lord Ellingham if necessary. There are not many documents, they all relate to the period of our client's life before he left England. There are one or two important letters from his father, the seventh Earl, two or three from his mother. There is also his mother's will. There is one letter from his younger brother, to whom he had evidently more than once, announced his determination of leaving home for a considerable time. There are two letters from your own firm relating to some property which Lord Marketstoke disposed of before he left London. There is a schedule or memorandum of certain personal effects which he left in his rooms at Ellingham Hall. There is also a receipt from his bankers for a quantity of plate and jewelry which he had deposited with them before leaving. These things had been left to him by his mother. There are also two documents which he seems to have considered it worthwhile to preserve all these years, concluded Wuddlesford with a smile. One is a letter informing him that he had been elected a member of the MCC. The other is his commission as a justice of the peace for the county of Buckinghamshire. As he detailed these things, Wuddlesford laid each specified paper before Mr. Carlos, and then they all gathered round and examined each exhibit. The various documents were somewhat faded with age, and the edges of some were worn as if from long folding and keeping in a pocket-book. Mr. Carlos hastily ran his eye over them. Very interesting, gentlemen, he remarked, but you know as well as I do that these things don't prove your client to be the missing Lord Market-Stoke. A judge and jury would want a lot more evidence than that. The mere fact that your man is in possession of all these documents proves nothing whatever. He may have stolen them. From what we have seen of our client Mr. Carlos, observed methodally, with some stiffness of manner, there is no need for such a suggestion. I dare say we shall all see a good deal of your client before this matter is settled, Mr. Mathlee, retorted Mr. Carlos, and even when I have seen a lot of him I should still say the same. He may have stolen them. What else has he to prove that he is what he says he is? He is fully conversant with his family history, said Wuddlesford. He can give a perfectly full end, so far as we can judge, accurate account of his early life and of his subsequent doings. He evidently knows all about Ellingham Hall, Market-Stoke, and the surroundings. I think if you were to examine him on these points you would find that his memory is surprisingly fresh. I have no doubt that it will come to his being examined on a great many points and in much detail, said Mr. Carlos with a dry smile. Of course I shall be much interested in seeing him. You see I remember the missing Lord Market-Stoke very well indeed. He was often in here when I, as a lad of nineteen or twenty, was article to my own father. And now, gentlemen, I'll ask you a question and commend it to your intelligence and common sense. If your client is this man he claims to be, why didn't he come straight to Carlos and Driver whom he would remember well enough instead of going to Methly and Wuddlesford? Come now! Neither visitor answered this question, and Mr. Paul suddenly turned on them with another. Did your client mention to you that he knew Carlos and Driver as the family solicitors? He asked. No, I can't say that he did, admitted Methly after all, thirty-five years' absence, you know. You said just now that his memory was surprisingly fresh, interrupted Mr. Paul. Surely, replied Wuddlesford, surely you can't expect a man who has been away from England all that time to remember everything. I should have expected Lord Market-Stoke to have gone straight to the family solicitors anyway, retorted Mr. Paul, obvious thing to do if his story is a true one. Wuddlesford glanced at his partner and, repossessing himself of the documents, began to arrange them in the envelope from which he had drawn them. We cannot, of course, say positively who our client is or who he is not. He said, all we can say is that he came to us with an introduction from an old client of ours whom we knew very well, and that his story seemed to us to be quite credible. No doubt he can bring further proof. But he did not come here in the first instance. I'll tell you why I, personally, am very much surprised that he didn't, interrupted Mr. Carlos. You told Lord Ellingham yesterday that your client saw no end of advertisements for him at the time of his father's death. Now we, Carlos and Driver, sent out those advertisements. Our name was appended to every one of them wherever they appeared. Why then, when this man, if he is the real man, returned home, did he not come to us? For there are three persons in this office who—but wait! He touched a bell. The clerk who had announced to Methley and Wuddlesford put his head in at the door. Ask Mr. Pottlethwaith to come here, commanded Mr. Carlos, and just find out if Mr. Driver is in his room. Pottlethwaith can tell me when he comes. An elderly grey-haired man presently appeared and closed the door behind him as if aware of the sacred nature of the proceedings. Mr. Driver is out, Mr. Carlos. He said, you wanted me, I think. Our senior clerk observed Mr. Carlos by way of introduction. Pottlethwaith, you remember the Lord of Market Stoke who disappeared some thirty-five years ago? Mr. Pottlethwaith smiled. Quite well, Mr. Carlos, he answered, as if it were yesterday. He used to come here a good deal, you know. Do you think you'd know him again, Pottlethwaith, after all these years?" asked Mr. Carlos, thirty-five years' mind. The elderly clerk smiled more assuredly than before, that he looked significantly at a corner of the room, and Mr. Carlos took the hint and rising from his chair went aside with him. Pottlethwaith whispered something in his employer's ear and Carlos suddenly laughed and nodded. To be sure, to be sure, I remember now, he said aloud. Thank you, Pottlethwaith, that's all. Well, gentlemen, he continued returning to his desk when the clerk had gone. I think the best thing you can do is to bring your client here. If he is the real and genuine article, he will, I am sure, be very glad indeed to meet three persons who knew him quite intimately in the old days. Mr. Driver, Mr. Pottlethwaith, and myself. And I really don't know that there's any more to do or say. The two visitors rose, and Methly looked at Mr. Carlos in a questioning fashion. Am I to go away with the impression that you believe our client to be an impostor? He said quietly. Frankly, I do, answered Mr. Carlos. So do I, exclaimed Mr. Paul, emphatically so. In that case, said Methly, I see no advantage in bringing him here. Not even anything to your own advantage, suggested Mr. Carlos with a keen glance which passed from one parton to the other. You as reputable practitioners of our profession don't want to be mixed up with an impostor. We should be very sorry to be mixed up in any way with an impostor, Mr. Carlos, said Methly. Mr. Carlos purged his lips for a moment as if he were never going to open them again, then he suddenly relaxed them. I tell you what it is, gentlemen, he said, I'm only anticipating matters in saying what I'm going to say, and I'm saying it because I feel sure you're quite sincere and genuine in this affair and are being deceived. If you will bring your client here, there are three of us in this office who, as my old clerk has just reminded me, can positively identify him on the instant if he is the man he claims to be. Positively I say and at once, there. May one ask, how? said Woodleford. No, exclaimed Mr. Carlos, bring him, telephone an appointment, and we'll settle the matter as soon as he sets foot inside that door. May we tell him that, asked Methly. You can do as you like, answered Mr. Carlos between ourselves, I shouldn't, but I assure you, we can tell in one glance, that's a fact. The two solicitors went away and Viner, who had closely watched Methly during the interview, followed them out and hailed Methly in the corridor outside Mr. Carlos's room. May I have a word with you? he asked, drawing him aside. I don't know if you remember, but I saw you the other night in the parlor of that old tavern in Notting Hill you came in while I was there. I had some idea that I remembered your face when we were introduced just now, said Mr. Methly. Yes, I think I do remember. You were sitting in a corner near the hearth. Just so! looked good, Viner. And I heard you ask the landlord a question about a gentleman whom you used to meet there sometimes. She left some specimen's cigars with the landlord for him. Yes, assented Methly wanderingly. You never knew that man's name, continued Viner, nor who he was. Just so! So I gathered. Then I'll tell you, there was a good reason why he had not been to that tavern for some nights. He was, John Ashton, the man who was murdered in Lonsdale Passage. Viner was watching his man with all the keenness of which he was capable, and he saw that this announcement fell on Methly as an absolute surprise. He started as only a man can start who has astounding news given to him suddenly. God bless me! he exclaimed. You don't mean it. Of course I know about that murder, our own district. And I saw Ashton's picture in the paper. But then there are so many elderly men of that type. Broad features trimmed a great beard. Dear me, dear me, a very pleasant, genial fellow, I am astonished, Mr. Viner. Viner resolved on a bold step. He wouldn't take it without consulting Mr. Paul or anybody. He drew Methly further aside. Mr. Methly, he said, you are a man of honour, and I trust you with a secret to be kept until I release you from the obligation of secrecy. I have reasons for getting at the truth about Ashton's murder. So has Mr. Paul. He and I have been making investigations and inquiries, and we are convinced. We are positive that these papers which your partner now has in his pocket were stolen from Ashton's dead body. That, in fact, Ashton was murdered for the possession of them, and I tell you for your own sake, find out who this client of yours is. That he was the actual murderer, I don't believe for a second. He is probably a mere cat's paw. But who's behind him? If you can do anything to find out the truth, do it. That Methly was astonished beyond belief was so evident that Viner was now absolutely convinced of his sincerity. He stood staring open-mouthed for a moment, then he glanced at Wudelsford, who was waiting at some distance along the corridor. Mr. Viner, he said, you amaze me. Listen, my partner is as sound and honest a fellow as there is in all London. Let me tell him this, I'll engage for your secrecy. If you'll consent to that, I'll see that without a word from us as to why this man who claims to be the missing Lord Marketstoke is brought here. If what you say is true, we are not going to be partners to a crime, let me tell Wudelsford, I'll answer for him. Viner considered this proposition for a moment. Very well, he said at last, tell him, I shall trust you both. Remember, it's between the three of us. I shan't say a word to Paul, nor to Carlos. You know there's a man's life at stake. Hides. Hide is as innocent as I am. He's an old school fellow of mine. I understand, said Amethly, very well. Trust to me, Mr. Viner. He went off with a reassuring nod, and Viner returned to Mr. Carlos' room. The three men he had left there were deep in conversation, and as he entered Mr. Carlos smote his hand at the desk before him. This is certain, he exclaimed. We must have this Miss Avis Wickham here, at once. CHAPTER XIX Mr. Paul nodded assent to this proposition, and rose from his chair. It's the only thing to do, he said. We must get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. Whether Miss Wickham can tell us much or little, we must know what she can tell. Let us all meet here again at three o'clock. I will send one of my clerks to fetch her. But let us be clear on one point. Are we to tell this young lady what our conclusions are regarding herself? Your conclusions? Said Mr. Carlos with a sly smile. We know nothing yet, you know, Paul. My conclusions, then, assented Mr. Paul. Are we—Lord Ellingham quietly interrupted the old lawyer. Pardon me, Mr. Paul, he said, but before we go any further, do you mind telling me briefly what your conclusions really are? I will tell your lordship in a few words, answered Mr. Paul readily. Wrong or right, my conclusions are these. From certain investigations which Mr. Viner and I have made since this affair began, with the murder of Ashton, and from certain evidence which we have unearthed, I believe that Ashton's friend Wickham, the father of the girl we are going to produce this afternoon, was in reality your lordship's uncle, the missing Lord Marketstoke. I believe that Ashton came to England in order to prove this, and that he was probably about to begin proceedings when he was murdered, for the sake of those papers which we have just seen. And I believe, too, that we had not seen all the papers which were stolen from his dead body. What was produced to us just now by Methly and Woodlesford was a selection. The probability is that there are other and more important papers in the hands of the murderer, whose cat's paw or accomplice this claimant, whoever he may be, is, I believe. Concluded Mr. Paul with emphasis, that my conclusions will be found to be correct ones, based on indisputable fact. Lord Ellingham looked from one solicitor to the other. Then, he said with something of a smile, if Wickham was really my uncle, Lord Marketstoke, and this young lady you tell me of, is his daughter, what, definitely is my position. Mr. Paul looked at Mr. Carlos, and Mr. Carlos shook his head. If Mr. Paul's theory is correct, he said, and mind you, Paul, it will take a lot of proving. If Mr. Paul's theory is correct, the position my Lord is this. The young lady we are here of, is Countess of Ellingham in her own right. She would not be the first woman to succeed to the title. There was a Countess of Ellingham in the time of George III. She would, of course, have to prove her claim before the House of Lords, if made good, she succeeds to titles and estates. It's the plain English of it, and upon my honour, concluded Mr. Carlos, it's one of the most extraordinary things I ever heard of. This other affair is nothing to it. Lord Ellingham again inspected the legal countenances. I see nothing at all improbable about it, he said. We may as well face that fact at once. I will be here at three o'clock, Mr. Carlos. I confess I should like to meet my cousin, if she really is that. Your lordship takes it admirably, exclaimed Mr. Carlos, but really, well, I don't know. However we shall see, but upon my honour it's most odd. One claimant disposed of, another, a more formidable one, comes on. But we have not disposed of the first, have we? suggested Lord Ellingham. I don't anticipate any trouble in that quarter, answered Mr. Carlos. As I said to those two who have just gone out, send or bring the man here, and we'll tell in one minute if he's what he claims to be. But how? asked Lord Ellingham, you seem very certain. Dead certain, asserted Mr. Carlos. He looked round his collars and laughed. I may as well tell you, he said, portal Thwait drew me aside to remind me of it. The real Lord Market-Stoke, if he were alive, could easily be identified. He lost a finger when a mere boy. Ah, exclaimed Mr. Paul, good, excellent, best bit of evidence I've heard of. Hang this claimant, now we can tell if we come really was Lord Market-Stoke. If necessary we can have his body exhumed and examined. It was a shooting accident, continued Mr. Carlos. He was out shooting in the park at Ellingham when a boy of fourteen or fifteen. He was using an old muzzle-loading gun. It burst and he lost his second finger, the right hand. It was, of course, very noticeable. Now that small, but very important fact is most likely not known to Methlion-Wilseford clients, but it's known to Driver and to Portal Thwait and to me, and now to all of you. If this man comes here, look at his right hand. If he possesses his full complement of fingers, well. Mr. Carlos ended with a significant grimace, and Mr. Paul, nodding ascent, returned to the question which he was putting when Lord Ellingham interrupted him. Now, let us settle the point I raised, he said. Are we to tell Ms. Wickham what my conclusions are, or are we to leave her in ignorance until we get proof that they are correct, or incorrect? Answered Mr. Carlos with an admonitory laugh. I should say at present tell her nothing. Let us find out all we can from her. There are several questions I should like to ask her, myself arising out of what you have told us. Leave all the rest until a later period. If your theory is correct, Paul, it can be established. If it isn't, the girl may as well be left in ignorance that you ever raised it. Until three o'clock, then, said Mr. Paul. Three o'clock found the old lawyer and viner pacing the pavement of Lincoln's in-fields in expectation of Ms. Wickham's arrival. She came at last in the taxi cab which Mr. Paul had sent for her, and her first words on stepping out of it were of surprise and inquiry. What is it, Mr. Paul? She demanded as she shook hands with her two squires. Such questions? What's it all about? Mr. Paul nudged Viner's arm. My dear young lady, he answered, in grave and fatherly fashion, you must bear in mind that a man's life is in danger. We are doing all we can to clear that unfortunate young fellow hide of the dreadful charge which has been brought against him, and to do that we must get to know all we can about your late guardian, you know. I know so little about Mr. Ashton. But Ms. Wickham looking apprehensively at the building towards which she was being conducted. Where are you taking me? To a solicitor's office, friends of mine, answered Mr. Paul. Carlos and driver, excellent people, Mr. Carlos wants to ask you a few questions in the hope that your answers will give us a little more light on Ashton's history. You needn't be afraid of Carlos, he added, as they began to climb the stairs. Carlos is quite a pleasant fellow, and he has with him a very amiable young gentleman, Lord Ellingham, of whom you needn't be afraid, either. And why is Lord Ellingham, whoever he may be, there? inquired Ms. Wickham. Lord Ellingham is also interested in your late guardian, replied Mr. Paul. In fact we are all interested. So now rub up your memory and answer Mr. Carlos's questions. The winner remained in the background quietly watching, while Mr. Paul effected the necessary introductions. He was at once struck by what seemed to him an indisputable fact between Lord Ellingham and Ms. Wickham. There was an unmistakable family likeness, and he judged from the curious scrutinizing look which Mr. Carlos gave the two young people as they shook hands to the same idea struck him. Mr. Carlos wound up that look in a significant glance at Mr. Paul, to whom he suddenly muttered a few words which find her caught. By Jove, he whispered, I shouldn't wonder if you're right. Then he placed Ms. Wickham in an easy chair on his right hand, and cast a preliminary benevolent glance on her. Mr. Paul, he began, has told us of your relationship with the late Mr. Ashton. You always regarded him as your guardian. He was my guardian, answered Ms. Wickham. My father left me in his charge. Just so, now, have you any recollection of your father? Only very vague recollections. I was scarcely six, I think, when he died. What do you remember about him? I think he was a tall, handsome man. I have an impression that he was. I think, too, that he had a fair complexion and hair, but it's all very vague. Do you remember where you lived? Only that it was in a very big town, Melbourne, of course. I have recollections of busy streets. I remember, too, that when I left there it was very, very hot weather. Do you remember Mr. Ashton at that time? Oh, yes, I remember Mr. Ashton. I had nobody else, you see. My mother had died when I was quite little. I have no recollection whatever of her. I remember Mr. Ashton's house, and that he used to buy me lots of toys. His house was in a quiet part of the town, and he had a big shady garden. How long, so far as you remember, did you live with Mr. Ashton there? Not very long, I think. He told me that I was to go to England to school. For a little time before we sailed I lived with Mrs. Roskamp, with whom I came to England. She was very kind to me. I was very fond of her. And who was Mrs. Roskamp? I didn't know at the time, of course. I only knew she was Mrs. Roskamp, but Mr. Ashton told me not long before his death who she was. She was the widow of some government official, and she was returning to England in consequence of his death. So she took charge of me and brought me over. She used to visit me regularly at school every week, and I used to spend my holidays with her until she died. Ah! said Mr. Carles. She is dead. She died two years ago. Answered Mrs. Wickham. I wish she had been living. Observed Mr. Carles with a glance at Mr. Paul. I should have liked to see Mrs. Roskamp. Well, he continued, turning to Mrs. Wickham. Now Mrs. Roskamp brought you to England to school. What school? Riden School. Riden. That's one of the most expensive schools in England, isn't it? I don't know. I—perhaps it is. I happen to know it is. Said Mr. Carles dryly. Two of my clients have daughters there now. I've seen their bills. Do you know who paid yours? No, she answered, I don't know. Mr. Ashton, I suppose. You had everything you wanted, I daresay. Clothes, pocket money, and so on. I've always had everything I wanted, replied Mrs. Wickham. And you were at Riden twelve years. Except for the holidays, yes. You must be a very learned young lady, suggested Mr. Carles. Mrs. Wickham looked round the circle of attentive faces. I can play tennis and hockey very well, she said, smiling a little, and I wasn't a bad at cricket the last season or two. We played cricket there, but I'm not up to much at anything else, except that I can talk French decently. Physical culture, eh? observed Mr. Carles smiling. Very well. Now then, in the end, Mr. Ashton came home to England, and, of course, came to see you, and in due course you left school and came to his house in Markendale Square, where he got a Mrs. Killenhall to look after you. All that correct? Yes. And then I think, from what Mr. Paul tells me, Mr. Ashton handed over a lot of money to you and told you it had been left to you or left in his charge for you by your father. That is correct, too? Very well. Now, did Mr. Ashton never tell you anything much about your father? No, he never did, beyond telling me that my father was an Englishman who had gone out to Australia and settled there, he never told me anything. What? Here Miss Wickham paused and hesitated for a while. I have an idea, she continued in the end, that he meant to tell me something, what I, of course, don't know. He once or twice hinted that he would tell me something, some day. You didn't press him? suggested Mr. Carles. I don't think I am naturally inquisitive, replied Miss Wickham. I certainly did not press him. I knew he'd tell me whatever it was in his own way.  Only that she was someone whom my father met in Australia. Do you know what her maiden name was? No, only her Christian name, that was Catherine. She and my father are buried together. Ah, exclaimed Mr. Carles, that is something else I was going to ask. You know where they are buried? Oh yes, because before we sailed Mrs. Roscombe took me to the churchyard or cemetery to see my father's and mother's grave. I remembered that perfectly. Her own husband was buried there, too, close by. I remember how we both cried. Mr. Carles suddenly pointed to the ornament which Miss Wickham was wearing. Will you take that off and let me look at it? He asked. Thank you. He said as she somewhat surprisedly obeyed. I believe he continued as he quietly passed the ornament to Lord Ellingham that Mr. Ashton gave you this and told you it had belonged to your father. Just so. Well, he concluded handing the ornament back. I think that's all. Much obliged to you, Miss Wickham. You won't understand all this, but you will later. Now one of my clerks will get you a car and will escort you down to it. No, said Lord Ellingham, promptly jumping to his feet. Allow me. I am youngest. Miss Wickham will let me. The two young people went out of the room together, and the three men left behind looked at each other. There was a brief and significant silence. Well, Carles, said Mr. Paul at last, how now? Upon my honour, answered Mr. Carles, I shouldn't wander if you're right. End of chapter 19, under examination. Chapter 20 of the middle of things. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The middle of things by J. S. Fletcher. Chapter 20. Surprising Readiness. Mr. Paul made a gesture which seemed to denote a certain amount of triumphant self-satisfaction. I am sure I am right, he exclaimed. You'll find out that I am right, but there is a tremendous lot to do, Carles, if only that unfortunate man, Ashton, had lived. He could have cleared this matter up at once. I feel convinced that he possessed papers which would have proved this girl's claim beyond dispute. Those papers, of course. Now, what particular papers are you thinking of? Interrupted Mr. Carles. Well, replied Mr. Paul, such papers as proofs of her father's marriage and of her own birth. According to what she told us just now, her father was married in Australia and she herself was born there. There must be documentary proof of that. Her father was probably married under his assumed name of Wickham. Observed Mr. Carles. You'll have to prove that Wickham and Lord Marketsdoke were identical, for one and the same person. The fact is, Paul, if this girl's claim is persisted in, there will have to be a very searching inquiry made in Australia. However, much I may feel that your theory may be, probably is, right. I should have to advise my client, Lord Ellingham, to insist on the most complete investigation. To be sure, to be sure, assented Mr. Paul, that's absolutely necessary. But my own impression is that as we get into the secret of Ashton's murder, as I make no doubt we shall, there will be more evidence forthcoming. Now, as regards this man, whoever he is, who claims to be the missing Lord Marketsdoke. At that moment, a clerk entered the room and glanced at Mr. Carles. Telephone message from Methly in Wittlesford, sir, he announced. Mr. Methly's compliments, and if agreeable to you, he can bring his client on to see you this afternoon, at once, if convenient. Mr. Carles looked at Mr. Paul, and Mr. Paul nodded a silent assent. Tell Mr. Methly it's quite agreeable and convenient, answered Mr. Carles. I shall be glad to see them both, at once. Hmm! He muttered when the clerk had withdrawn, somewhat sudden, eh, Paul? You might almost call it suspicious alacrity. Evidently, the gentleman has no fear of meeting us. You may be quite certain, Carles, if my theory about the whole thing is a sound theory, that the gentleman will have no fear of meeting anybody, not even a judge and jury, answered Mr. Paul sardonically. If I apprehend things rightly, he'll have been very carefully coached and prepared. You think there's a secret conspiracy behind all this? suggested Mr. Carles. With this claim it is Cat's Paul well tutored to his task. I do, affirmed Mr. Paul, emphatically I do. I—well, said Mr. Carles, don't forget what I told you about the missing finger, middle finger of the right hand, and I'll have driver in here, and portal Thwait too, we'll see if he knows which is which of the three of us. I'll go and prepare them. He returned presently with his partner, a quiet, elderly man, a few minutes later, poor Thwait, evidently keenly interested to join them. They and Mr. Paul began to discuss certain legal matters connected with the immediate business, and Viner purposely withdrew to a corner of the room, intent on silently watching whatever followed on the arrival of the visitors. A quarter of an hour later, Methly was shown into the room, and the five men gathered there, turned with one accord to look at his companion, a tall, fresh-colored, slightly gray-haired man of distinctly high-bred appearance, who, Viner sought once, was much more self-possessed and assured in manner than any of the men who rose to meet him. My client, Mr. Cave, who claims to be Earl of Ellingham, said Methly by way of introduction, Mr. Car, but the other men smiled quietly and immediately assumed a lead. There is no need of introduction, Mr. Methly. He said, I remember all three gentlemen perfectly. Mr. Carlus, Mr. Driver, and yes, to be sure, Mr. Portal Thwait, I have a good memory for faces. He bowed to each man as he named him, and smiled again. Whether these gentlemen remember me as well as I remember them, he remarked, is another question. May I offer you a chair, said Mr. Carlus. The visitor bowed, sat down, and took off his gloves, and in the silence which followed, Viner saw that the eyes of Driver, Carlus Paul, and Portal Thwait were all steadily directed on the claimant's right hand. He himself turned to it, too, with no small interest. The next instant he was conscious that an atmosphere of astonishment and surprise had been set up in that room. For the middle finger of the man's right hand was missing. Viner felt, rather than saw, that the three solicitors and the elderly clerk were exchanging glances of amazement, and he fancied that Mr. Carlus's voice, which had sounded cold and noncommittal as he offered the visitor's seat, was somewhat uncertain when he turned to address him. You claimed, sir, to be the Lord of Marketstoke had disappeared so many years ago. He asked, eyeing the claimant over, I claim to be exactly what I am, Mr. Carlus, answered the visitor with another ready and pleasant smile. I hope your memory will come to your aid. When a man has disappeared absolutely for something like thirty-five years, remarked Mr. Carlus, those whom he has left behind may well be excused if their memories don't readily respond to sudden demands. But I should like to ask you some questions. Did you see the advertisements which were issued, broadcast, the time of the Seventh Earl of Ellingham's death? Yes, and several English and colonial papers. Answered the claimant. Why did you not reply to them? At that time I still persevered in my intention of never again having anything to do with my old life. I had no desire at all to come forward and claim my rights, so I took no notice of your advertisements. And since then, of late, to be exact, you have changed your mind. Suggested Mr. Carlus dryly. To a certain extent only replied the visitor, whose calm assurance was evidently impressing the legal practitioners around him. I have already told Mr. Mathley and his partner, Mr. Wittlesford, that I have no desire to assume my title nor to require possession of the estates, which are certainly mine. I have lived a free life too long to wish for what I should come in for if I established my claim, but I have a right to a share in the property which I quite willingly resigned to my nephew. In plain language, said Mr. Carlus, if you are paid a certain considerable sum of money, you will vanish again into the obscurity from whence you came, am I right in that supposition? I don't like your terminology, Mr. Carlus. Answered the visitor with a slight frown. I have not lived in obscurity, and if you are what you claim to be, sir, you are Earl of Ellingham, said Mr. Carlus firmly, and I may as well tell you at once that if you prove to us that you are, your nephew, who now holds title and estates will at once relinquish both. There will be no bargaining. It is all or nothing. Our client, whom we know as Earl of Ellingham, is not going to traffic. If you are what you claim to be, you are head of the family and must take your place. We could have told you that, once for all, if you had come to us in the first instance, remarked Mr. Driver, any other idea is out of the question. It seems to me most remarkable that such a notion is that which you suggest should ever enter your head, sir, if you are Earl of Ellingham, you are. And that reminds me, said Mr. Carlus, that there is another question I should like to ask. Why, knowing that we have been legal advisers to your family for several generations, did you not come straight to us instead of going? Mr. Methley, I am sure, will pardon me, to a firm of solicitors which, as far as I know, has never had any connection with it. I thought it best to employ absolutely independent advice, replied the visitor, and I still think I was right. For example, you evidently do not admit my claim. We certainly admit nothing at present, declared Mr. Carlus with a laugh. It would be absurd to expect it. The proofs which your solicitor showed us this morning are no proofs at all, that those papers belong to the missing Lord Marketstoke. There is no doubt, but your possession of them at present is not proved that you are Lord Marketstoke or Lord Ellingham. They may have been stolen. The claimant rose from his chair with a good deal of dignity. He glanced at Methley. I do not see that any good can come of this interview, Mr. Methley. He remarked in quiet, level tones. I am evidently to be treated as an impostor, in that case. He bowed ceremoniously to the men gathered round Mr. Carlus's desk. I think it best to withdraw. Therewith he walked out of the room, and Methley, after a quiet word with Carlus, followed, to be stopped in the corridor, for a second time that day by Weiner, who had heard after him. I am not going to express any opinion on what we have just heard. We spread Weiner drawing Methley aside. But in view of what I told you this morning, there is something I want you to do for me. Yes, said Methley, what? That unlucky fellow Hyde, who is on remand, is to be brought before the magistrate tomorrow morning. Answered Weiner, get him this claimant, there, to attend the court as a spectator. Go with him. Use any argument you like, but get him there. I have a reason which I will explain later. I will do my best, promised Methley, and I have an idea of what is on your mind. You want to find out if Hyde can recognize him as the man whom he met at the Markindale Square end of Lonsdale Passage. Well, that is my idea, assented Weiner, so get him there. Methley nodded and turned away. Then he turned back and pointed at Carlos's room. What do they really think in there? He whispered, tell me, between ourselves. That he is an impostor, and that there is a conspiracy, replied Weiner. Methley nodded again, and Weiner went back. The men whom he had left were talking excitedly. It was the only course to take. Mr. Carlos was declaring, uncompromising hostility. We could do no other. He saw quite well that he was all for money. I will engage that we could have settled with him for one half of what he asked, but who is he? The middle finger of his right hand is gone, said Mr. Paul, who had been very quiet and thoughtful during these recent proceedings. Remember that, Carlos. A most extraordinary coincidence, exclaimed Mr. Carlos excitedly. I don't care too pence what anybody says. We all know that the most surprising coincidences do occur. Nothing but a coincidence. I assert. What is it, poor little Thwaite? The elderly clerk had been manifesting a strong desire to get in a word and he now wrapped his senior employer's elbow. Mr. Carlos, he said earnestly, you know that before I came to you, now nearly forty years ago, I was a medical student. You know, too, you and Mr. Driver, why I gave up medicine for the law. But I haven't forgotten all of that I learned in the medical schools and hospitals. Well, poor Thwaite demanded Mr. Carlos. What is it? You have some idea? Gentlemen, answered the elderly clerk, I was always particularly interested in anatomy in my medical student days. I've been looking attentively at what I could see of that man's injured finger since he sat down at that desk. And I'll lay all I have that he lost the two joints of that finger within the last three months. The scar over the stump had not long been healed. That's a fact. Mr. Carlos looked round with a triumphant smile. There, he exclaimed, what did I tell you? Coincidence? Nothing but coincidence. But portal Thwaite shook his head. Why not say design, Mr. Carlos? He said meaningly. Why not say design? If this man or the people who are behind him knew that the real Lord Marketstoke had a finger missing, what easier in view of the stake they are playing for than to remove one of this man's fingers? Design, sir, design, all part of the scheme. The elderly clerk's listeners looked at each other. I'll tell you what it is. exclaimed Mr. Paul with sudden emphasis. The more we see and hear of this affair, the more I'm convinced that it is, as portal Thwaite says, a conspiracy. You know, that fellow who has just been here was distinctly taken aback when you, Carlos, informed him that it was going to be a case of all or nothing. He or the folk behind him evidently expected that they'd be able to effect a money settlement. Now I should say that the real reason of his somewhat hasty retirement was that he wanted to consult his principal or principles. Did you notice that he was not really affronted by your remark? Not he. His personal dignity wasn't ruffled a bit. He was taken aback.  Carlos, you ought to have that man carefully shadowed to see where and to whom he goes. Good idea, muttered Mr. Driver, we might see to that. I can put a splendid man on to him at once, Mr. Carlos, remarked Portal Thwaite, if you could furnish me with this address. Methlyn Wittelsford know it, said Mr. Carlos, um, yes, that might be very useful. Ring Methle's up, Portal Thwaite, and ask if they would oblige us with the name of Mr. Cape's Hotel, some residential hotel in Lancaster Gate, I believe. Mr. Paul and Viner went away, ruminating over the recent events, and walked to the old lawyers' offices in Bedford Row. Mr. Paul's on particular clerk met them as they entered. There's Mr. Rowland Perkwite of the Middle Temple in your room, sir, he's said, addressing his master. You may remember him, sir. We've briefed him once or twice in some small cases. Mr. Perkwite wants to see you about this ashten affair. He says he has something to tell you. Mr. Paul looked at Viner and beckoned him to follow. Here a little, and there a little. He whispered, what are we going to hear this time? End of Chapter 20. Surprising Readiness. Chapter 21. Of the Middle of Things. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Middle of Things by J. S. Fletcher. Chapter 21. The Marseille Meeting. The man who was waiting in Mr. Paul's room and who rose from his chair with alacrity as the old lawyer entered with Viner at his heels was an alert, sharp-eyed person of something under middle age, whose clean-shaven countenance and general air immediately suggested the law courts. And he went straight to business before he had released the hand which Mr. Paul extended to him.  Just so, answered Mr. Paul, he knows something about it. This gentleman is Mr. Richard Viner, who is interested in it considerably. To be sure, said the barrister, one of the witnesses, of course. I read the whole thing up last night. I have been on the continent, the French Riviera, Italy, the Austrian Tyrol for some time, Mr. Paul, and only returned to town yesterday. I saw something in an English newspaper in Paris the other day about this Ashton business, and as my clerk keeps the times for me when I am absent, last night I read over the proceedings before the magistrate and before the coroner. And of course I saw your request for information about Ashton and his recent movements. And you've some to give, asked Mr. Paul. I have some to give, assented Mr. Perkwight, as the three men set down by Mr. Paul's desk. Certainly, and I should say it's of considerable importance. The fact is, I met Ashton at Marseille and spent the better part of the week in his company at the Hotel de Louvre there. When was that, asked Mr. Paul. About three months ago, replied the barrister, I had gone straight to Marseille from London. They had come there from Italy by way of Monte Carlo and Nice. We happened to get into conversation on the night of my arrival, and we afterward spent most of our time together. And finding out that I was a barrister, he confided certain things to me and asked my advice. I, and on what now, inquired the old lawyer. It was the last night we were together, replied Mr. Perkwight. We had by that time become very friendly, and I had promised to renew our acquaintance on my return to London, where Ashton told me he intended to settle down for the rest of his life. Now on that last evening at Marseille I had been telling him after dinner of some curious legal cases, and he suddenly remarked that he would like to tell me of a matter which might come within the law, and on which he should be glad of advice. He then asked me if I had ever heard of the strange disappearance of Lord Marketsdoke, heir to the seventh Earl of Ellingham. I replied that I had at the time when application was made to the courts for leave to presume Lord Marketsdoke's death. Thereupon, pledging me to secrecy for the time being, Ashton went on to tell me that Lord Marketsdoke was well known to him, and that he alone knew all the facts of the matter, though a certain amount of them was known to another man now leaving in London. He said that Marketsdoke, after a final quarrel with his father, left England in such a fashion that no one could trace him, making with him the fortune which he had inherited from his mother, and eventually settled in Australia, where he henceforth lived under the name of Wickham. According to Ashton, he and Marketsdoke became friends, close friends at a very early period of Marketsdoke's career in Australia, and the friendship deepened and existed until Marketsdoke's death some twelve or thirteen years ago, but Ashton never had the slightest notion of Marketsdoke's real identity until his friends' last days. Then Marketsdoke told him the plain truth and the fact who he really was at the same time was confided to another man who, however, was not told all the details which were given to Ashton.  Marketsdoke confided her to Ashton with a wish that she should be sent home to England to be educated. He also handed over to Ashton a considerable sum of money for this child. Further, he gave him a quantity of papers, letters, family documents, and so on. He had a purpose. He left it to Ashton in whom he evidently had the most absolute confidence as to whether this girl's claim to the title and estate should be set up. And when Ashton had finished telling me all this, I found that one of his principal reasons in coming to England to settle down was the wish to find out how things were with the present holder of the title. If he said he discovered that he was a worthy sort of young fellow, he Ashton should be inclined to let the secret die with him. He told me that the girl already had some twelve thousand pounds of her own, and that it was his intention to leave her the whole of his own fortune.  But in view of the possibility of his setting up her claim, he asked me some questions on legal points, and of course I asked him to let me see the papers of which he had spoken. Ah! exclaimed Mr. Paul with a sigh of relieved satisfaction. Then you saw them. Yes. He showed me the whole lot, replied Mr. Perkwight. Not so many, after all, those that were really pertinent at any rate. He carried those in a pocketbook. Had so carried them, he told me ever since Marketstoke had handed them to him, they had never he added been out of his possession day or night since Marketstoke's death. Now on examining the papers I had once discovered two highly important facts. Although Marketstoke went to and lived in Australia under the name of Wickham, he had taken good care to get married in his own proper name, and there amongst the documents was the marriage certificate in which he was correctly described. Further his daughter had been correctly designated in the register of her birth. There was a copy, properly attested, of the entry. Mr. Paul glanced at Weiner, and Weiner knew what he was thinking of. The two documents just described that Mr. Perkwight had not been among the papers which Methlion Wittelsford had exhibited at Carly's and Driver's office. A moment, said Mr. Paul, lifting an arresting finger, did you happen to notice where this marriage took place? It was not in Melbourne, replied Mr. Perkwight. My recollection is that it was at some place of a curious name.  She was an English girl and an orphan. The child, however, was certainly born in Melbourne and registered in Melbourne. Now, that's odd, remarked Mr. Paul. You'd have thought that when Lord Marketstoke was so extensively advertised for some years ago on the death of his father, some of these officials— Ah! I put that point to Ashton, interrupted Mr. Perkwight. He said that Marketstoke, though he had taken good care to be married in his own name and had exercised equal precaution about his daughter, had pledged everybody connected with his marriage and the child's birth to secrecy. I muttered Mr. Paul. He would do that, of course, but continue. Well said the barrister, after seeing these papers I had no doubt whatever that the case as presented by Ashton was quite clear and that his ward, Miss Aviswickham, is without doubt countess of Ellingham, the title I understand, going in the female as well as the male line, and rightful owner of the And I told him that his best plan on reaching England was to put the whole matter before the family solicitors. However, he said that before doing that there were two things he wanted to do. One was to find out for himself how things were if the young Earl was a satisfactory landlord and so on, and likely to be accredited to the family. The other was that he wanted to consult the man who shared with him the bare knowledge that the man who had been known in Melbourne as Wiccan was really the Missing Lord Marketstoke. And he added that he had already telegraphed to this man to meet him in Paris. Ah! exclaimed Mr. Paul with a look in Viner's direction. Now we are indeed coming to something. He was to meet him in Paris. Viner I'll wager the world against a china orange that that's the man whom Armistice saw in company with Ashton in the Rue Royale, and no doubt the man of Lonsdale Passage. Mr. Perquite, this is most important. Did Ashton tell you the name of this man? The old lawyer was tremulous with excited interest, and Mr. Perquite was obviously sorry to disappoint him. Unfortunately he did not, he replied. He merely told me that he was a man who had lived in Melbourne for some time and had known Marketstoke and himself very intimately, had left Melbourne just after Marketstoke's death, and had settled in London. No, he did not mention his name. Disappointing, muttered Mr. Paul. That's the nearest approach to a clue that we've had, Mr. Perquite, if we only knew who that man was. But what more can you tell us? Nothing more, I'm afraid, answered the barrister. I promised to call on Ashton when I returned to London and when he had started housekeeping, and we parted. I went on next morning to Genoa, and he set off for Paris. He was a pleasant, kindly sociable fellow, concluded Mr. Perquite, and I was much aggrieved to hear of his sad fate. He didn't correspond with you at all after you left him in London. Marcelle? Asked Mr. Paul. No, replied the barrister. No, I never heard of, or from him until I read of his murder. Paul turned to Viner. I think we'd better tell Perquite of all that's happened within our own can, he said, and proceeded to give the visitor a brief account of the various important details. Now, he concluded, it seems to me there is only one conclusion to be arrived at. The man who shared the secret with Ashton is certainly the man whom Armistice saw with him in Paris. He is probably the man whom Hyde saw leaving Lonsdale Passage just before Hyde found the body. And he is without doubt the murderer, and is the man to whom this claimant fellow is acting as Cat's Paul, and who is he? There must be some way of finding that out, observed Mr. Perquite. If your theory is correct, that this claimant is merely a man who is being put forward, then surely the thing to do is to get at the person or persons behind him, through him. Aye, there's that to be thought of, asserted Mr. Paul. But it may be a tougher job than we think for. It would have been a tremendous help if Ashton had only mentioned a name to you. Sorry, but he didn't, said Mr. Perquite. You feel, he continued after a moment's silence, you feel that this affair of the Ellingham succession lies at the root of the Ashton mystery, that he was really murdered by somebody who wanted to get possession of those papers? And to remain sole repository of the secret, declared Mr. Paul, isn't it established that beyond yourself and this unknown man nobody but Ashton knew the secret? There is another matter, though, remarked Viner. He turned to the visitor. You said that you and Ashton became very friendly and confidential during your stay in Marseille. Pray, did he never show you anything of a valuable nature, which he carried in his pocketbook? The Barrister's keen eyes suddenly lighted up with recollection. Yes, he exclaimed. Now you come to suggest it. He did. A diamond. Ah, said Mr. Paul, so you saw that. Yes, I saw it, assented Mr. Perquite. He showed it to me as a sort of curiosity, a stone which had some romantic history attaching to it, but I was not half as much interested in that as in the other affair. All the same, remarked Mr. Paul, that diamond is worth some fifty or sixty thousand pounds, perquite, and it's missing. Mr. Perquite looked his astonishment. You mean he had it on him when he was murdered? He asked. So it's believed, replied Mr. Paul. In that case it might form a clue, said the Barrister. When it's heard of, admitted Mr. Paul with a grim smile. Not till then. From what we have heard, remarked Viner, Ashton carried that diamond in the pocket-book which contained his papers, the papers you have told me of, and some of which have certainly come into possession of this claimant person. Now whoever stole the papers, of course, got the diamond. Mr. Perquite seemed to consider matters during a moment's silence. Finally he turned to the old lawyer. I have been thinking over something that might be done. He said, I see that the coroner's inquest was adjourned. Now as that inquest is, of course, being held inquire into the circumstances of Ashton's death, I suggest that I should come forward as a witness, and should prove that Ashton showed certain papers relating to the Ellingham peerage to me at Marseille. I can tell the story as a witness. It can then be proved by you or by Carlos that a man claiming to be the missing Lord Market Stoke showed these stolen papers to you. In the meantime, get the coroner to summon this man as a witness, and take care that he is brought to the court. Once there let him be asked how he came into possession of these papers. Do you see my idea? Capital, exclaimed Mr. Paul, an excellent notion, much obliged to you, Perquite. It shall be done. I'll see to it at once. Yes, to be sure, that will put this fellow in a tight corner. Don't be surprised if he has some very clever explanation to give, said the barrister, warningly. The whole thing is evidently a well-concocted conspiracy. But when is the adjourned in quest? Day after tomorrow, replied Mr. Paul, after glancing at his desk diary, and tomorrow morning remarked Weiner, hide comes up before the magistrate again on remand. He was half-mined to tell Mr. Paul there and then of his secret dealings with Methley that day, but on reflection he decided that he would keep the matter to himself. Weiner had an idea which he had not communicated even to Methley. It had struck him that the mysterious Dues Machina, who was certainly at the back of all this business, might not, in probability, be so anxious about his schemes that he would, unknown and unsuspected, attend the magistrate's court, would hide his wits sharpened by danger, be able to spot him as the muffled man of long-stale passage.