‘You would not say so, sir, if you knew that young man as well as I do. He was capable of anything—clever enough for anything in the way of wickedness. The most artful man couldn’t be a match for him. He deceived me; he hoodwinked his father, over and over again. There was no lock that could keep anything from him. He robbed his father in every way that it was possible for a man to rob, and looked in his face all the time, and shammed innocence. His mother had trained him to lie and cheat before he could speak plain. If Ferdinand Sivewright is in England, Ferdinand Sivewright is the thief.’ ‘And the poisoner?’ asked Lucius. ‘I don’t know! Perhaps. He did not shrink from stupefying his father’s senses with an opiate, when it suited his purpose. He may have grown more hardened in wickedness since then, and may be capable of trying to poison him.’ ‘Mind, I do not say that he is in England,’ said Lucius, ‘only that he may be. Now, there is one thing very clear to me, namely, that whoever put the arsenic in that medicine must have entered your master’s room by the secret staircase. Mr. Sivewright’s door was kept locked at night, and his room was carefully watched by day—especially during the two or three days immediately before my discovery of the poison. Now, you pretend to have been ignorant of the existence of that staircase until I showed it to you.’ ‘I have told you nothing but the truth, sir.’ ‘But if you, who had lived in that house for several years, knew nothing about it, how should a stranger, coming into the house by stealth, discover it?’ ‘I cannot tell you, sir,’ answered the old man helplessly. ‘Does your master know of that staircase, do you think?’ ‘He may, sir, though he never mentioned it to me. He is a close gentlemen at all times. He chose the room he now sleeps in for his bedroom when we first came to the house. He would have no painting, or whitewashing, or repairs of any kind done—saying that the place was good enough for him, and he didn’t want to waste money upon it. My wife cleaned up the rooms as well as she could, and that was all that was done. There were no workmen spying about, to find out secret staircases or anything else.’ ‘From whom did your master take the house?’ asked Lucius. ‘From an agent, Mr. Agar, in the Shadrack-road.’ ‘To whom does it belong?’ ‘I’ve never heard, sir; but I believe it’s the property of somebody that lives abroad. Mr. Agar always collected the rent half-yearly.’ ‘Then, no doubt, Mr. Agar knows all about that staircase,’ said Lucius; ‘I’ll go to him at once.’ ‘Heaven grant you may be able to come at the truth, sir; though I can’t see how that staircase can help you.’ ‘I don’t know about that, Mr. Wincher,’ returned Lucius; and with a hasty ‘Good-morning,’ he departed. CHAPTER XVIII. MR. AGAR’S COLONIAL CLIENT.