"I can't account for it, and Steel has yet to prove that there is any connection between the yacht and the robberies. He thinks it a kind of pirate ship evidently. Not a bad idea, though," added Morley musingly; "the goods could be removed easily without suspicion on board a good-looking yacht." "And that is what has been done." "It wasn't in the matter of Lady Summersdale's jewels," retorted the ex-detective. "I found those in London, and have reason to believe that they were taken there by train. Besides, there was no connection between the yacht and that robbery." "Steel said that a scarlet cross was found in the safe, and----" "And," interrupted Morley, "there you have the long arm of coincidence, Ware. That cross belonged to Lady Summersdale, and was one of the trinkets left behind. If you want proof on this point, you have only to ask Lady----no, I forgot, she is dead. However, I daresay her son or daughter will be able to prove that the cross was hers." Giles was much disappointed by this explanation, which seemed clear enough. And if any one should know the truth, it would be the man who had taken charge of the case. Failing on this point, Giles shifted his ground. "Well, Morley," he said, "I am not very anxious to prove this man Wilson a burglar. He is a murderer, I am sure, and the greater crime swallows up the lesser." "That sounds law," said Morley, lighting a cigar. "Well, Ware, I don't see how I can help you. This man Wilson, whether he is innocent or guilty, has vanished; and, moreover, his connection, if any, with the Summersdale robbery of ten years ago won't prove him guilty of my poor ward's death." "I only mentioned that to show his connection with the yacht at Gravesend. But as to this Wilson, I know where he is." Morley wheeled round with an eager light in his eyes. "The devil you do. Where is he?" "At the Priory." "Is this a joke?" cried Morley angrily. "If so, it is a very poor one, Ware. The man who lives at the Priory is my friend Franklin----" "He is also the man who was in the church on New Year's Eve--the man who killed Daisy, as I truly believe." Giles went on to state what his reasons were for this belief. All at once Morley started to his feet. "Ah! I know now why something about him seemed to be familiar to me. What a fool I am! I believe you are right, Ware." "What? That he is this man Wilson?" "I don't know what his former name was," replied Morley, with a shrug, "but now you mention it I fancy he is the man who served the summons on me." "You ought to know," said Ware dryly; "you saw him in this room, and in a good light."