legram for Mr. Lindsey. He tore the envelope open as we stood in the
hall, and I made no apology for looking over his shoulder and reading
the message with him.

"Just heard by wire from Largo police that small yacht answering
description of Carstairs' has been brought in there by fishermen who
found it early this morning in Largo Bay, empty."

We looked at each other. And Mr. Lindsey suddenly laughed.

"Empty!" he exclaimed. "Aye!--but that doesn't prove that the
man's dead!"

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SUIT OF CLOTHES

Mr. Lindsey made no further remark until we were half through our
lunch--and it was not to me that he then spoke, but to a waiter who was
just at his elbow.

"There's three things you can get me," he said. "Our bill--a railway
guide--a map of Scotland. Bring the map first."

The man went away, and Mr. Lindsey bent across the table.

"Largo is in Fife," said he. "We'll go there. I'm going to see that
yacht with my own eyes, and hear with my own ears what the man who found
it has got to say. For, as I remarked just now, my lad, the mere fact
that the yacht was found empty doesn't prove that Carstairs has been
drowned! And well just settle up here, and go round and see Smeaton to
get a look at those letters, and then we'll take train to Largo and make
a bit of inquiry."

Mr. Smeaton had the letters spread out on his desk when we went in, and
Mr. Lindsey looked them over. There were not more than half a dozen
altogether, and they were mere scraps, as he had said--usually a few
lines on half-sheets of paper. Mr. Lindsey appeared to take no great
notice of any of them but the last--the one that Smeaton had quoted to us
in the morning. But over that he bent for some time, examining it
closely, in silence.

"I wish you'd lend me this for a day or two," he said at last. "I'll take
the greatest care of it; it shan't go out of my own personal possession,
and I'll return it by registered post. The fact is, Mr. Smeaton, I want
to compare that writing with some other writing."

"Certainly," agreed Smeaton, handing the letter over. "I'll do anything I
can to help. I'm beginning, you know, Mr. Lindsey, to fear I'm mixed up
in this. You'll keep me informed?"

"I can give you some information now," answered Mr. Lindsey, pulling out
the telegram. "There's more mystery, do you see? And Moneylaws and I are
off to Largo now--we'll take it on our way home. For by this and that,
I'm going to know what's become