you a proper
receipt for them. There's something very valuable in them, anyhow."

"What?" asked Copplestone.

"The address in St. Louis from which that Marston Greyle wrote to Bassett
Oliver." replied Gilling. "We can communicate with that address--at once.
We may learn something there. But," he went on, turning to Mrs. Greyle,
"I want to learn something here--and now. I want to know where and under
what circumstances the Squire came to Scarhaven. You were here then, of
course, Mrs. Greyle? You can tell me?"

"He came very quietly," replied Mrs. Greyle. "Nobody in Scarhaven--unless
it was Peter Chatfield--knew of his coming. In fact, nobody in these
parts, at any rate--knew he was in England. The family solicitors in
London may have known. But nothing was ever said or written to me, though
my daughter, failing this man, is the next in succession."

"I do wish you'd leave all that out, mother!" exclaimed Audrey. "I
don't like it."

"Whether you like it or not, it's the fact," said Mrs. Greyle
imperturbably, "and it can't be left out. Well, as I say, no one knew the
Squire had come to England, until one day Chatfield calmly walked down
the quay with him, introducing him right and left. He brought him here."

"Ah!" said Gilling. "That's interesting. Now I wonder if you found out if
he was well up in the family history?"

"Not then, but afterwards," answered Mrs. Greyle. "He is particularly
well up in the Greyle records--suspiciously well up."

"Why suspiciously?" asked Cobblestone.

"He knows more--in a sort of antiquarian and historian fashion--than
you'd suppose a young man of his age would," said Mrs. Greyle. "He gives
you the impression of having read it up--studied it deeply. And--his
usual tastes don't lie in that direction."

"Ah!" observed Mr. Dennie, musingly. "Bad sign, ma'am,--bad sign! Looks
as if he had been--shall we say put up to overstudying his part. That's
possible! I have known men who were so anxious to be what one calls
letter-perfect, Mr. Copplestone, that though they knew their parts, they
didn't know how to play them. Fact, sir!"

While the old actor was chuckling over this reminiscence, Gilling turned
quietly to Mrs. Greyle.

"I think you suspect this man?" he said.

"Frankly--yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I always have done, though I have
said so little--"

"Mother!" interrupted Audrey. "Is it really worth while saying so much
now! After all, we know nothing, and if this is all mer