leshell?"

"Miss Greeby was here to-day and told me that the woman knows something
about poor Hubert's death."

Garvington's pen halted for a moment, but he did not look round. "What
can she possibly know?" he demanded irritably.

"That's what I shall find out when Mr. Jarwin discovers her," said
Agnes, who was in a low chair near the fire. "By the way, Freddy, I am
sorry you let the Abbot's Wood Cottage to Mr. Silver."

"Why shouldn't I?" growled Garvington, writing industriously. "Noel
didn't pay me a pound a week, and Silver does."

"You might have a more respectable tenant," said Agnes scathingly.

"Who says Silver isn't respectable?" he asked, looking round.

"I do, and I have every reason to say so."

"Oh, nonsense!" Garvington began to write again. "Silver was Pine's
secretary, and now he's Miss Greeby's. They wouldn't have engaged him
unless he was respectable, although he did start life as a pauper
toymaker. I suppose that is what you mean, Agnes. I'm surprised at your
narrowness."

"Ah, we have not all your tolerance, Freddy. Have you finished that
letter?"

"There you are." Garvington handed it over. "You don't want me to
address the envelope?"

"Yes, I do," Agnes ran her eyes over the missive; "and you can add a
postscript to this, telling Mr. Jarwin he can take my motor to look for
Gentilla Stanley if he chooses."

Garvington did as he was asked reluctantly. "Though I don't see why
Jarwin can't supply his own motors," he grumbled, "and ten to one he'll
only put an advertisement in the newspapers."

"As if Mother Cockleshell ever saw a newspaper," retorted his sister.
"Oh, thank you, Freddy, you are good," she went on when he handed her
the letter in a newly addressed envelope; "no, don't go, I want to speak
to you about Mr. Silver."

Garvington threw himself with a growl into a chair. "I don't know
anything about him except that he's my tenant," he complained.

"Then it is time you did. Perhaps you are not aware that Mr. Silver
tried to blackmail me."

"What?" the little man grew purple and exploded. "Oh, nonsense!"

"It's anything but nonsense." Agnes rose and went to her desk to get the
forged letter. "He came to me a long time before Christmas and said that
Chaldea found this," she flourished the letter before her brother's
eyes, "in Hubert's tent when he was masquerading as Hearne."

"A letter? What does it say?" Garvington stretched out his hand.

Agnes drew back and returned to