sincerity about his doings on that eventful night, that I
accepted every word he said. And--in the little that I had thought of
it--I was very ready to accept his theory as to how those two men had
come by their deaths--and it was one that was certainly feasible, and
worth following up. Some years before, I remembered, something of the
same sort had gone on, and had resulted in an affray between
salmon-poachers and river-watchers--why should it not have cropped up
again? The more I thought of it, the more I felt Sir Gilbert's
suggestion to have reason in it. And in that case all the mystery would
be knocked clean out of these affairs--the murder of Phillips, the death
of Crone, might prove to be the outcome of some vulgar encounter between
them and desperadoes who had subsequently scuttled to safety and were
doubtless quaking near at hand, in fear of their misdeeds coming to
light; what appeared to be a perfect tangle might be the simplest matter
in the world. So I judged--and next morning there came news that seemed
to indicate that matters were going to be explained on the lines which
Sir Gilbert had suggested.

Chisholm brought that news to our office, just after Mr. Lindsey had come
in. He told it to both of us; and from his manner of telling it, we both
saw--I, perhaps, not so clearly as Mr. Lindsey--that the police were
already at their favourite trick of going for what seemed to them the
obvious line of pursuit.

"I'm thinking we've got on the right clue at last, as regards the murder
of yon man Phillips," announced Chisholm, with an air of satisfaction.
"And if it is the right clue, as it seems to be, Mr. Lindsey, there'll be
no great mystery in the matter, after all. Just a plain case of murder
for the sake of robbery--that's it!"

"What's your clue?" asked Mr. Lindsey quietly.

"Well," answered Chisholm, with a sort of sly wink, "you'll understand,
Mr. Lindsey, that we haven't been doing nothing these last few days,
since yon inquest on Phillips, you know. As a matter of fact, we've
been making inquiries wherever there seemed a chance of finding
anything out. And we've found something out--through one of the banks
yonder at Peebles."

He looked at us as if to see if we were impressed; seeing, at any rate,
that we were deeply interested, he went on.

"It appears--I'll tell you the story in order, as it were," he said--"it
appears that about eight months ago the agent of the British Linen Bank
at Peebles