“I reckoned it amongst the possibilities of the case,” was the frank answer. “Then came the second robbery when Mr. Croxton was no longer an inmate. This fact gave rise to fresh speculations, for I did not greatly believe in the theory of an outside confederate, although I know Mr. Morrice held to it. Then I learned that the original memorandum of the mechanism was lost; it was no longer possible to say for certain that the knowledge it contained was confined to two people, it might have been acquired by more than one other party, and, of course, from that my area of suspicion was extended. What, however, finally clinched the matter in my mind, Miss Sheldon—and this is a feather in your cap—was that conversation which you overheard and reported to me.” “It was quite good of you not to give me away, when uncle wanted to know the source of your information.” “I am not quite such a brute as I seem, my dear young lady, I assure you. When I can do a good turn to anybody I like and respect, believe me it gives me pleasure. With regard to my general reticence which I know must have offended you very much, you must remember I have moved so much amongst mystery that I have become more than a little mysterious myself.” “And you believe Mrs. Morrice committed these burglaries alone?” asked Rosabelle. “I am inclined to think so, although we are quite certain where the proceeds went to.” “And what about those finger-prints of the man who was in Dartmoor at the time of the first burglary?” “That, no doubt, was an invention, employed more for purposes of devilment, to lead a detective a useless dance and make a fool of him. In the second robbery the same game was played, but when the safe was opened a third time, it was dropped. There were no finger-prints then, they had been carefully rubbed out.” “How she could have had the courage,” exclaimed Rosabelle, “and you know I should not have considered her a very strong-minded or resolute woman.” Lane shrugged his shoulders. “Evidently she was in mortal terror of these two scoundrels, hypnotized by them in a sense. Those restitutions that were made had certainly a feminine touch. A man would never have ventured back for such a purpose, anything that was useless to him he would have destroyed.” “It is all very horrible and tragic,” said Rosabelle in a sad voice. “My heart bleeds for my dear uncle. Thank heaven he will have Richard still left to comfort him.” “Yes, I am very glad the young fellow is cleared,” said Lane heartily. “Well, I must be off. Before long I hope to get the whole details of this miserable affair out of Mrs. Morrice. Good-bye for the present.” CHAPTER XXIV LANE MAKES A CALL On the following morning Lane’s own private car was waiting for him in Shaftesbury Avenue. He was expecting a message from a trusted emissary, to whom he had given the three photographs of Mrs. Morrice, and dispatched to watch the flat of Alma Buckley in Elvenden Mansions.