“Now, I have told you that Mr. Morrice asked me to allow him to be joined in this investigation, and I consented because it did not seem to prejudice your interests in any way, the aim of both being to discover the guilty party. Now, it seems to me that the time has arrived, or will very shortly be approaching, when it will be my painful duty to inform him of his wife’s singular conduct in passing off this young man, brought up by the woman Alma Buckley, as her nephew. Before doing so, there is one contingency which we ought to anticipate, although I consider it a very unlikely one. Is Mr. Morrice himself a party to the deception? Is he already aware of it, and has acquiesced in it from some motive satisfactory to himself? From your close association with him, you must be well acquainted with his character, his habits of thought, his views of what are right and wrong. Do you think it likely that he would from any motives be a consenting party to such a fraud?” And Richard’s answer was emphatic. Rupert Morrice was one of the whitest men he had ever known, abhorrent of deceit and chicanery in any form, high-minded and honourable to a fault, just a little intolerant perhaps of weakness in others. Even in his business life, his notions of rectitude were considered by those who knew him best almost quixotic, and in private life his code of morality was just as stringent. Even if he loved his wife with a passionate devotion, he would never have tacitly suffered such a thing as this. And everybody knew that while he treated Mrs. Morrice with the utmost respect and consideration, ardent love played no part in their relations. They made no pretence at being other than a very ordinary couple who jogged along placidly enough. After a little further conversation the interview terminated, leaving the two men mutually pleased with each other. Lane thought that Richard seemed a very straightforward, transparent sort of young fellow with whom it was very difficult to associate a criminal enterprise of such depth and cunning. And Dick recognized in the detective a sound, solid man, with great gifts for his difficult task, neither optimistic nor pessimistic, but holding the just mean between the two extremes. Lane was impressed by the shrewdness of the young man’s remark when they parted. “If you can find who has got that memorandum, you will discover the actual thief. I don’t believe in Mr. Morrice’s theory of it having passed into the hands of the dustman.” “Neither do I, Mr. Croxton. Well, good-bye for the present. I think for the moment we will say nothing about these happenings to Miss Sheldon. It is not because I wish to keep her in the dark, for I am sure she is a good and noble girl. But for the moment, except to those actually concerned, secrecy is imperative. A chance word, a chance look, even a gesture might convey a warning where I do not wish it to be conveyed. You understand.”