"To be sure."

"Barthorpe Herapath turned into the carriageway and went into the
office," continued Burchill. "Now, as I've already said, I knew Jacob
Herapath's methods; I hadn't served him for nothing. He was the sort of
man who makes no distinction between day and night--it was quite a
common thing for him to fix up business appointments with people at
midnight. I've been present at such appointments many a time. So, I
dare say, has Mr. Selwood; any one who acted as secretary to Jacob
Herapath knows well that he'd think nothing of transacting business at
three o'clock in the morning. So I knew, of course, that Barthorpe had
gone there to keep some such appointment. I also knew that it would
probably last some time. Now I wanted to see Jacob Herapath alone. And
as there didn't seem to be any chance of it just then, I went home to my
flat in Maida Vale."

"Walked in?" asked Davidge.

"If you're particular as to the means, I took a taxi-cab at the Gardens
end of the High Street," replied Burchill, half-contemptuously. He
turned his attention to Selwood and the Professor again. "Now, I'm going
to tell you the plain truth about what happened afterwards," he
continued. "This part of the story is for the particular benefit of you
two gentlemen, though it has its proper connection with all the rest of
the narrative. I sat up rather late when I got home that night, and I
lay in bed next day until afternoon--in fact, I'd only just risen when
Barthorpe Herapath called on me at three o'clock. Now, as I don't have
papers delivered, but go out to buy what I want, it's the fact that I
never heard of Jacob Herapath's murder until Barthorpe told me of it,
then! That's the truth. And I'll at once anticipate the question that
you'll naturally want to ask. Why didn't I at once tell Barthorpe of
what I'd seen the night before?--of the presence of the man whom we're
calling Mr. X.?"

"Just so!" murmured Davidge. "Ah, yes, why not?"

"I'll tell you," continued Burchill. "Because Barthorpe immediately
sprang upon me the matter of the will. And I just as immediately
recognized--I think I may count myself as a quick thinker--that the
really important matter just then was not the murder of Jacob Herapath,
but the ultimate disposal of Jacob Herapath's immense wealth."

"Clever!" sighed Davidge. "Uncommonly clever!"

"Now, Professor Cox-Raythwaite, and you, Mr. Selwood," Burchill went on,
adding new earnestness to his tone. "I want you