"Money. Asked if I wanted it. I said every fellow wanted it. Said he would be happy to oblige. I said, 'Ah.'" "When Lady Wharton returned did you remain with them?" "At her request. Saw her give him jewels. Saw him give her packet. Saw her dismiss him. Glad to be rid of fellow." "You went back to the house, and was present when she opened the packet?" "Yes. Blank paper. Infernal scoundrel." "Was information given to the police?" "Wanted to. Lady Wharton said no, go to lawyer. Went to Mr. Finnis Saturday. Then, surprising report in papers. Man murdered, or supposed to be." "That is all you know, Lord Fairfax?" "All I know." The Coroner (to the jury): "Before we call Mr. Reginald Boyd I wish to ask Mr. Richard Remington a question or two, arising out of Lady Wharton's evidence." The profound amazement with which Dick had listened to this evidence was not reflected in his countenance as he stepped airily forward. Never in his life had he so strongly felt the need for dissimulation as at the present time. It was forced upon him--by the discoveries he had himself made and by the testimony of the witnesses who had been examined--that in this mystery another agency was at work the existence of which he had hitherto only dimly suspected. The person who had presented himself to Lady Wharton as Samuel Boyd and had committed the fraud upon her must have been intimately familiar with the business operations of the murdered man, and must have had free access to the house in Catchpole Square. He must also have a talent for disguise to have so imposed upon Lady Wharton. He could think of but one person who had the knowledge requisite to carry out the deception--Abel Death. But to do what Lady Wharton had described needed courage, coolness, skill, and an evenly balanced brain; none but a master of resource, and one who had perfect command over himself, could have brought to a successful issue a task so difficult. Dick could hardly believe that Abel Death was equal to a man[oe]uvre so daring, a scheme so full of peril, in which a single false step would bring destruction upon him. Dick felt as if every hour added a new mystery to those that lay unsolved. He had one cause for deep gratitude, and he gladly welcomed it. These disclosures helped to dispel the cloud of suspicion that hung over Reginald. Whatever else he might have done, he could have had no personal part in the duplicity and in the robbery of the jewels. How far this would help to clear him in the minds of others who might suspect him had yet to be seen. They might argue that he was in league with another man, and that the imposition practised upon Lady Wharton was part of a cunningly laid scheme, all the details of which had been carefully considered and mapped out beforehand. There was, indeed, but little light in the cloud that hung over Florence's husband. This was the state of Dick's mind when he submitted himself for the third time to the Coroner.