"Never mind about that. She may for my purpose be as mad as she likes, so long as she is not a drivelling idiot. Now, supposing either of them had committed the crime of murder in this case, do you suppose that until drivelling idiocy had been fully established in one or the other, either of them would behave in such a childish way as you describe? Why, it would shame any Bedlamite in Europe for rank silliness! The man who tried to cool a red-hot poker in a barrel of gunpowder would be only a little rash compared with either of these two, if, as you seem to suppose, either is responsible for the dead man's death." The younger man's face brightened. "Then you think, sir, there is still good reason to hope?" "I am sure there is no reason to do anything else. This Mrs. Davenport, at your first interview, trusts you fully up to a certain point, and then suddenly refuses to give you any more confidence. At your second interview she gives you all, and more than all, the confidence you require. What has wrought that change? She has seen the old lover. She is acting upon his advice. She has given you a great deal of confidence, but she has not told you everything. She is keeping back the most important piece of all." "What is that?" "The line of his and her defence. He will, of course, be professionally represented at the inquest. There will be some one there for him, anyhow. I am firmly convinced he has an unanswerable and startling defence. If I were you I should take every precaution I could for the protection of my client; but I feel fully assured _he_ will clear up the whole case. Now run away. I've got in another batch of those Millington deeds, and I want to get through them by dinner-time. Will you be home to dinner?" "I don't think so, sir. I'll run out to Dulwich and see if there is anything new." When young Pringle found himself at Dulwich he went to Carlingford House; for he knew that the folk there, especially Alfred, would be anxious to hear the news, and this analysis of the case by his father had put him in good heart. The day was fine and mild for the season. As he entered the garden of Carlingford House, he saw, through a tall wicket gateway, two elderly men walking in the grounds at the rear. One of these he recognised as Mr. Paulton; the other was a stranger to him. He passed through the wicket gateway into the back garden. Just as he did so the two men faced fully round, and Mr. Paulton cried out, as he hastened towards the solicitor: "Mr. Pringle, you are the very man we want. We were this minute talking of you. Mr. Davenport, this is Mr. Pringle, who has kindly consented, at our request, to act in this unhappy affair as solicitor for Mrs. Davenport." "Sir," said the dead man's brother, bowing low, "I am very glad to make your acquaintance. I hope you find yourself in the enjoyment of good health." "I am quite well, thank you," said Pringle, somewhat taken aback by the old-fashioned formality of the other.