"Oh--ah!--well, his real name was Martin Andrius, but he'd another name for the stage," replied Addie. "We gave him the papers and arranged for him to go down to Scarhaven to my father. Now I want to assure you all, right here, that my father never did really know that Martin was an imposter. He began to suspect something at the end, but he didn't know for a fact. Martin went down to him at Scarhaven, just a week after the real Marston Greyle had died. He claimed to be Marston Greyle, he produced his papers. My father told about the Marston Greyle he'd buried. Martin pooh-poohed that--he said that that man must be a secretary of his, Mark Grey, who, after stealing some documents had left him in New York and slipped across here, no doubt meaning to pass himself off as the real man until he could get something substantial out of the estate, when he'd have vanished. I tell you my father accepted that story--why? Because he knew that if Miss Greyle there came into the estate, she and her mother would have bundled Peter Chatfield out of his stewardship quick." "Proceed, if you please," said Sir Cresswell. "There are other details about which I am anxious to hear." "Meaning about your own brother," remarked Addie. "I'm coming to that. Well, on his story and on his production of those papers--birth certificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on--everybody accepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly till that Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven. And now, Sir Cresswell, I'll tell you the plain and absolute truth about your brother's death! It's the absolute truth, mind--nobody knows it better than I do. On that Sunday I was at Scarhaven. I wanted to speak privately to Martin. I arranged to meet him in the grounds of the Keep during the afternoon. I did meet him there. We hadn't been talking many minutes when Bassett Oliver came in through the door in the wall, which one of us had carelessly left open. He didn't see us. But we saw him. And we were afraid! Why? Because Bassett Oliver knew both of us. He'd met Martin several times, in London and in New York--and, of course, he knew that Martin was no more Marston Greyle than he himself was. Well!--we both shrank behind some shrubs that we were standing amongst, and we gave each other one look, and Martin went white as death. But Bassett Oliver went on across the lawn, never seeing us, and he entered the turret tower and went up. Martin just said to me 'If Bassett Oliver sees me, there's an end to all this--what's to be done?' But before I could speak or think, we saw Bassett at the top of the tower, making his way round the inside parapet. And suddenly--he disappeared!" Addie's voice had become low and grave during the last few minutes and she kept her eyes on the table at the end. But she looked up readily enough when Sir Cresswell seized her arm and rapped out a question almost in her ear. "Is that the truth--the real truth?"