r in England comes
to take up an inheritance, having on him no doubt, the necessary proofs
of identification. He's met by one person only--his agent. He dies next
day. The agent buries him, under a false name, takes his effects and
papers, gets some accomplice to personate him, introduces that accomplice
to everybody as the real man--and there you are! Oh, Chatfield knew what
he was doing! Who on earth, wandering in this cemetery, would ever
connect Mark Grey with Marston Greyle?"

"Just so--but there was one danger-spot which must have given Chatfield
and his accomplices a good many uneasy hours," answered Copplestone. "You
know that Marston Greyle actually registered in his own name at Falmouth
and was known to the land lord and the doctor there."

"Yes--and Falmouth is three hundred miles from London and five hundred
from Scarhaven," replied Gilling dryly. "And do you suppose that whoever
saw Marston Greyle at Falmouth cared two pins--comparatively--what became
of him after he left there? No--Chatfield was almost safe from detection
as soon as he'd got that unfortunate young fellow laid away in that
grave. However we know now--what we do know. And the next thing, now that
we know Marston Greyle lies behind us there, is to get back to town and
catch the chap who took his place. We'll wire to Swallow and to
Petherton and get the next express."

Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton were in conference with Swallow at the
solicitor's office when Gilling and Copplestone arrived there in the
early afternoon. Gilling interrupted their conversation to tell the
result of his investigations. Copplestone, watching the effect, saw that
neither Sir Cresswell nor Petherton showed surprise. Petherton indeed,
smiled as if he had anticipated all that Gilling had to say.

"I told you that I knew the Greyle family solicitors," he observed. "I
find that they have only once seen the man whom we will call the Squire.
Chatfield brought him there. He produced proofs of identification--papers
which Chatfield no doubt took from the dead man. Of course, the
solicitors never doubted for a moment that he was the real Marston
Greyle!--never dreamed of fraud: Well--the next step. We must concentrate
on finding this man. And Swallow has nothing to tell--yet. He has never
seen anything more of him. You'd better turn all your attention to that,
Gilling--you and Swallow. As for Chatfield and his daughter, I suppose we
shall have to approach the police