, "that there _is_ one
inquiry which in justice to the suspected man and in order to round
off the investigation, should be instituted. I'm afraid Coverly will
have a bad time in the Coroner's court, but it is even possible that
something might be done before the inquest. Now--"

He looked at me quizzically, and:

"Knowing your keen personal interest in the case, I am going to make a
suggestion. It is probably going outside the intentions of the chief
in regard to your share of the inquiry, but I'll risk that. I
stipulate, however, that anything you learn is to be communicated
direct to me, not to the _Planet_. Is this arrangement consistent with
your journalistic conscience?"

"Quite," I said eagerly; "my contributions to the _Planet_ are always
subject, of course, to your censorship. What is it that you propose I
should do?"

"This," said Gatton tersely; "I should like to know under what
circumstances Mr. Roger Coverly died."

"Roger Coverly?" I echoed.

"The son of Sir Burnham Coverly," continued Gatton, "and therefore the
direct heir to the title. He died somewhere abroad about five or six
years ago, and as a result the late Sir Marcus inherited the baronetcy
on the death of his uncle, Sir Burnham. You will remember that the
man, Morris, spoke of the ill-feeling existing between Lady Burnham
Coverly and Sir Marcus, because of the premature death of her own son,
of course."

"I follow you," I said eagerly. "You suggest that I should go down to
Friar's Park and interview Lady Burnham Coverly?"

"Exactly," replied Gatton. "It's very irregular, of course, but I know
you well enough to take my chance of a carpeting. I may send a C.I.D.
man down as well. I've too much to do in town to think of going
myself; but I will advise you of any such step."

The motive underlying Inspector Gatton's suggestion was perfectly
evident to me and I experienced a feeling of gratitude for the
humanity which directed it. I held out my hand, and:

"Thanks, Gatton," I said; "you can leave the matter in my care with
every confidence. I will start for Friar's Park to-day."

"Good," replied Gatton. "Let me give you a hint. Take a good pistol
with you!"

CHAPTER XI

THE SCARRED MAN

It was towards the hour of seven in the evening that I reached the
Abbey Inn at Upper Crossleys, itself among the most hoary buildings of
the ancient village. It belonged to the days when white-clad brethren
from the once great monastery of