"Miss Renfrew," said Cleek, sinking his voice and looking her straight in the eyes, as soon as Mrs. Armroyd had left them, "Miss Renfrew, tell me something please: Have you any suspicion regarding the identity or the purpose of the person who murdered your uncle?" "Not in the slightest, Mr. Headland. Of course, in the beginning, my thoughts flew at once to Sir Ralph Droger, but I now see how absurd it is to think that such as he----" "I am not even hinting at Sir Ralph Droger," interposed Cleek. "Two other people in the world have a 'motive' quite as strong as any that might be assigned to him. You, of course, feel every confidence in the honour and integrity of Mr. Charles Drummond?" "Mr. Headland!" "Gently, gently, please! I merely wished to know if in your heart you had any secret doubt; and your flaring up like that has answered me. You see, one has to remember that the late Mr. Nosworth is said to have made a will in your favour. The statement is correct, is it not?" "To the best of my belief--yes." "Filed it with his solicitors, did he?" "That I can't say. I think not, however. He was always sufficient unto himself, and had a rooted objection to trusting anything of value to the care of any man living. Even his most important documents--plans and formulas of his various inventions, even the very lease of this property--have always been kept in the desk in the laboratory." "Hum-m-m!" said Cleek, and pinched his chin hard. Then, after a moment. "One last question," he went on suddenly. "What do you know, Miss Renfrew, of the recent movements of Mr. Harry Nosworth--the son who was kicked out?" "Nothing, absolutely nothing!" she answered, with a look of something akin to horror. "I know what you are thinking of, but although he is as bad as man can be, it is abominable to suppose that he would lift his hand against his own father." "Hum-m-m! Yes, of course! But still, it has been known to happen; and, as you say, he was a bad lot. I ran foul of the young gentleman once when----No matter; it doesn't signify. So you don't know anything about him, eh?" "Nothing, thank God. The last I did hear, he had gone on the stage and taken up with some horrible creature, and the pair of them were subsequently sent to prison for enticing people to dreadful places and then drugging and robbing them. But even that I heard from an outside source; for my uncle never so much as mentioned him. No, I know nothing of him--nothing at all. In fact, I've never seen him since he was a boy. He never lived here, you know; and until I came here, I knew next to nothing of my uncle himself. We were poor and lived in a quite different town, my mother and I. Uncle Septimus never came to see us while my mother lived. He came for the first time when she was dead and his son had gone away: and I was so poor and so friendless I was glad to accept the home he offered. No, Mr. Headland, I know nothing of Harry Nosworth. I hope, for his own sake, he is dead."