he had been a
woman he would have wept from sheer misery and agitation. But it was of
no good to clench his hands in despair; every moment that passed ought
to be used to find out the truth of what had happened, to clear himself
from that nightmare of suspicion.

He went hurriedly across the hall to his study with the instinct of one
who feels that on the spot itself there may be some suggestion to help
discovery. His writing-table was locked. He tried it, shook it. The key,
one of a peculiar make, hung always on his watch-chain. It was quite
impossible that, save by one who had the key, the table should have been
opened. What had he done yesterday? What had happened? And he sat down
and buried his face in his hands, concentrating his thoughts, trying to
recall every incident. The first time that Stamfordham had come in and
given him the rough notes and the map, he, Rendel, had been alone. There
was no doubt of that. After that who came in? Rachel? No, Rachel had not
been in the room with the papers except just at the end when Rendel was
sealing up the packet. Besides, if Rachel had had a hundred secrets in
her possession, they would have been as safe as in his own. Then he
caught himself up--in his own! after all, he was suspected--so the
impossible idea, apparently, could be entertained. Then the thought of
Sir William Gore came into his mind, but only to be instantly dismissed,
for since the papers were locked up in Rendel's writing-table they must
have been as inaccessible to Sir William as though they had been
separated from him by the walls of several apartments. And there was one
thing pretty certain: Gore, supposing him to be capable of using it, had
not got a duplicate key. "Even he," Rendel found himself thinking,
"would not do that." He heard Rachel's step swiftly descend the stairs
and go into the dining-room, then she came quickly across the hall to
the study.

"Oh, there you are, Frank," she said. "My father is----" then she broke
off as she saw that he was apparently buried in painful thought from
which he roused himself with a start as she spoke. "Is anything the
matter?"

"I will tell you," said Rendel, speaking with an effort.

"May I just ask you something first?" said Rachel hurriedly. "I want
some foolscap paper for my father. He is so restless this morning, so
impatient."

"It is in there--I told you, didn't I?" said Rendel, turning round and
pointing to one of the drawers at the side of his