nterrupt but she sat
with a look of keen expectancy upon her face. She did not know whither
Pettifer was leading them but she was now sure that it was to some
carefully pondered goal.

"I have more than once briefed Thresk myself. He's a man of the highest
reputation at the Bar, straightforward, honest; he enjoys a great
practice, he is in Parliament with a great future in Parliament. In a
word he is a man with everything to lose if he lied as a witness in a
trial. And yet--I am not satisfied."

Mr. Pettifer's voice sank to a low murmur. He sat at his desk staring out
in front of him through the window.

"Why?" asked Hazlewood. But Pettifer did not answer him. He seemed not to
hear the question. He went on in the low quiet voice he had used before,
rather like one talking to himself than to a companion.

"I should very much like to put a question or two to Mr. Thresk."

"Then why don't you?" exclaimed Mrs. Pettifer. "You know him."

"Yes." Mr. Hazlewood eagerly seconded his sister. "Since you know him you
are the very man."

Pettifer shook his head.

"It would be an impertinence. For although I look upon Dick as a son I am
not his father. You are, Hazlewood, you are. He wouldn't answer me."

"Would he answer me?" asked Hazlewood. "I don't know him at all. I can't
go to him and ask if he told the truth."

"No, no, you can't do that," Pettifer answered, "nor do I mean you to. I
want to put my questions myself in my own way and I thought that you
might get him down to Little Beeding."

"But I have no excuse," cried Hazlewood, and Mrs. Pettifer at last
understood the plan which was in her husband's mind, which had
been growing to completion since the night when he had dined at
Little Beeding.

"Yes, you have an excuse," she cried, and Pettifer explained what it was.

"You collect miniatures. Some time ago you bought one of Marie Antoinette
at Lord Mirliton's sale. You asked a question as to its authenticity in
_Notes and Queries_. It was answered--"

Mr. Hazlewood broke in excitedly:

"By a man called Thresk. That is why the name was familiar to me. But I
could not remember." He turned upon his sister. "It is your fault,
Margaret. You took my copy of _Notes and Queries_ away with you. Dick
noticed it and told me."

"Dick!" Pettifer exclaimed in alarm. But the alarm passed. "He cannot
have guessed why."

Mrs. Pettifer was clear upon the point.

"No. I took the magazine because of a remark which Robert