ld have made disclosures if I
had urged him a little. He was evidently in great dread of a visit
from some person, and that person was Durgin. Torrini ought to be
questioned without delay; he is very low, and may die at any moment.
He is lying in a house at the further end of the town. If it is not
imperative that I should report myself to Justice Beemis, we had
better go there at once."

Mr. Taggett, who had been standing with his head half bowed,
lifted it quickly as he asked the question, "Why did you withhold
Lemuel Shackford's letter?"

"It was never in my possession, Mr. Taggett," said Richard,
starting. "That paper is something I cannot explain at present. I can
hardly believe in its existence, though Mr. Perkins declares that he
has had it in his hands, and it would be impossible for him to make a
mistake in my cousin's writing."

"The letter was found in your lodgings."

"So I was told. I don't understand it."

"That explanation will not satisfy the prosecuting attorney."

"I have only one theory about it," said Richard slowly.

"What is that?"

"I prefer not to state it now. I wish to stop at my boarding-house
on the way to Torrini's; it will not be out of our course."

Mr. Taggett gave silent acquiescence to this. Richard opened the
scullery door, and the two passed into the court. Neither spoke until
they reached Lime Street. Mrs. Spooner herself answered Richard's
ring, for he had purposely dispensed with the use of his pass-key.

"I wanted to see you a moment, Mrs. Spooner," said Richard, making
no motion to enter the hall. "Thanks, we will not come in. I merely
desire to ask you a question. Were you at home all day on that Monday
immediately preceding my cousin's death?"

"No," replied Mrs. Spooner wonderingly, with her hand still resting
on the knob. "I wasn't at home at all. I spent the day and part of the
night with my daughter Maria Ann at South Millville. It was a boy,"
added Mrs. Spooner, quite irrelevantly, smoothing her ample apron with
the disengaged hand.

"Then Janet was at home," said Richard. "Call Janet."

A trim, intelligent-looking Nova Scotia girl was summoned from the
basement kitchen.

"Janet," said Richard, "do you remember the day, about three weeks
ago, that Mrs. Spooner was absent at South Millville?"

"Yes," replied the girl, without hesitation. "It was the day
before"--and then she stopped.

"Exactly; it was the day before my cousin was killed. Now I want
you