“One possible explanation of Mr. Fordingbridge's disappearance has been suggested, Mr. Calder. He had large funds belonging to other people within his control under a power of attorney. Unless we can learn the state of these funds, we are rather at a loss to know what we're looking for. Now, quite unofficially, have you any information on the point, or can you make a guess as to the state of affairs? Every moment may count, you understand; and we don't want to bark up the wrong tree, if it _is_ the wrong tree.” The lawyer evidently had no desire to implicate himself. “There's always a possibility of malversation,” he admitted, “in every case where a man has control of someone else's money.” “You were familiar with the affairs of the Fordingbridge estate, I suppose, before Paul Fordingbridge took them out of your firm's hands not long ago? I mean that, if I got hold of his papers, you could tell roughly if there had been any hanky-panky?” “I think it's possible.” Sir Clinton considered for a time before speaking again. “Suppose I get permission to examine his papers, either from the family or from the authorities, you could put your finger on any malversation if you had time to look into things?” “Very likely, though it might take time.” “Then I'll get permission, one way or another. I suppose any papers will be at his house in London?” “Probably.” “Then I'll go up to town with you this afternoon, Mr. Calder, and we'll look into things with your help.” The lawyer made no comment on the suggestion, and, as Sir Clinton showed no desire to detain him further, he went back to his clients. As soon as his back was turned, Armadale swung round on Wendover. “I see what you're driving at now, sir,” he declared in a rather scornful tone. “You think she'll get off on a manslaughter charge instead of a murder case. And, of course, if it's merely manslaughter, she's a nice-looking girl with a hard-luck story ready, and you're counting on a sympathetic jury to bring in a verdict that'll amount to an acquittal. That's it, isn't it?” Wendover was genuinely amused. “That's deuced ingenious of you, inspector,” he admitted. “I hadn't thought of it in that light at all.” “Oh, hadn't you?” Armadale replied. “Well, in any case, you needn't count much on it. What's the evidence in favour of it? Nothing but a prepared statement by the accused and her accomplice, backed by a sharp lawyer. Any prosecutor would make hay of it in five minutes so far as credibility goes.” “I'm not depending on her statement, inspector. I had the whole affair cut and dried in my mind before she opened her lips. All that her statement did was to confirm my ideas on every point. Your case is a complete wash-out.” Armadale seemed quite unshaken by this blunt assertion.