. Lindsey," said I. "I was just wondering--if you
must know--how it was that, as he was here, you didn't tell Sir
Gilbert about that signature of his brother's that you found on
Gilverthwaite's will."

He shared a sharp look between me and the door--but the door was
safely shut.

"No!" he said. "Neither to him nor to anybody, yet a while! And don't
you mention that, my lad. Keep it dark till I give the word. I'll
find out about that in my own way. You understand--on that point,
absolute silence."

I replied that, of course, I would not say a word; and presently I
went into the office to resume my duties. But I had not been long at
that before the door opened, and Chisholm put his face within and
looked at me.

"I'm wanting you, Mr. Moneylaws," he said. "You said you were with
Crone, buying something, that night before his body was found. You'd be
paying him money--and he might be giving you change. Did you happen to
see his purse, now?"

"Aye!" answered I. "What for do you ask that?"

"Because," said he, "we've taken a fellow at one of those riverside
publics that's been drinking heavily, and, of course, spending money
freely. And he has a queer-looking purse on him, and one or two men
that's seen it vows and declares it was Abel Crone's."

CHAPTER XVI

THE MAN IN THE CELL

Before I could reply to Chisholm's inquiry, Mr. Lindsey put his head out
of his door and seeing the police-sergeant there asked what he was after.
And when Chisholm had repeated his inquiry, both looked at me.

"I did see Crone's purse that night," I answered, "an old thing that he
kept tied up with a boot-lace. And he'd a lot of money in it, too."

"Come round, then, and see if you can identify this that we found on the
man," requested Chisholm. "And," he added, turning to Mr. Lindsey,
"there's another thing. The man's sober enough, now that we've got
him--it's given him a bit of a pull-together, being arrested. And he's
demanding a lawyer. Perhaps you'll come to him, Mr. Lindsey."

"Who is he?" asked Mr. Lindsey. "A Berwick man?"

"He isn't," replied Chisholm. "He's a stranger--a fellow that says he was
seeking work, and had been stopping at a common lodging-house in the
town. He vows and declares that he'd nothing to do with killing Crone,
and he's shouting for a lawyer."

Mr. Lindsey put on his hat, and he and I went off with Chisholm to the
police-station. And as we got in sight of it, we became aware that there
was a