ir!" he exclaimed. "That I will indeed! And as to
wishing you well--ah, I never wished anything but well to your poor
father. He was led away, sir, led away by Chamberlayne. God bless me,
what a night of surprises! Why, Mr. Spargo, supposing that coffin is
found empty--what then?"

"Then," answered Spargo, "then I think we shall be able to put our
hands on the man who is supposed to be in it."

"You think my father was worked upon by this man Chamberlayne, sir?"
observed Breton a few minutes later when they had all sat down round
Mr. Quarterpage's hospitable hearth. "You think he was unduly
influenced by him?"

Mr. Quarterpage shook his head sadly.

"Chamberlayne, my dear young sir," he answered. "Chamberlayne was a
plausible and a clever fellow. Nobody knew anything about him until he
came to this town, and yet before he had been here very long he had
contrived to ingratiate himself with everybody--of course, to his own
advantage. I firmly believe that he twisted your father round his
little finger. As I told Mr. Spargo there when he was making his
enquiries of me a short while back, it would never have been any
surprise to me to hear--definitely, I mean, young gentlemen--that all
this money that was in question went into Chamberlayne's pockets. Dear
me--dear me!--and you really believe that Chamberlayne is actually
alive, Mr. Spargo?"

Spargo pulled out his watch. "We shall all know whether he was buried
in that grave before another six hours are over, Mr. Quarterpage," he
said.

He might well have spoken of four hours instead of six, for it was then
nearly midnight, and before three o'clock Spargo and Breton, with the
other men who had accompanied them from London were out of the "Yellow
Dragon" and on their way to the cemetery just outside the little town.
Over the hills to the eastward the grey dawn was slowly breaking: the
long stretch of marshland which lies between Market Milcaster and the
sea was white with fog: on the cypresses and acacias of the cemetery
hung veils and webs of gossamer: everything around them was quiet as
the dead folk who lay beneath their feet. And the people actively
concerned went quietly to work, and those who could do nothing but
watch stood around in silence.

"In all my long life of over ninety years," whispered old Quarterpage,
who had met them at the cemetery gates, looking fresh and brisk in
spite of his shortened rest, "I have never seen this done before. It
seems a stra