So much for my private feelings and for the small part I had played in Miss Cameron's life. I set them aside entirely, and threw myself heart and soul into the mystery which surrounded the murder. It was plain enough to me that the Confession was worthless as evidence; a clever writer might have invented and written it for the purpose of exculpating himself, and by Fordham's own admission he was a writer of great power. I had read the articles he wrote on drunkenness, and I knew that the pictures he presented were drawn from life. But if they were cited at his trial they would tell against instead of for him, and would serve to discount the speech he might make in his defense. The mystery must be grappled with in a more practical manner, and I was the more determined to grapple with it sensibly and with as little sentiment as possible, because, when I finished the Confession I was convinced that Fordham was quite truthful in all he had set down. It would be hoping too much to hope that the judge and jury would think so, but I might succeed in discovering something that would lead to a verdict of manslaughter, and the passing of a light sentence; and it was not altogether impossible that a verdict of complete acquittal might be compassed. In which case what becomes of the censure passed by Fordham's solicitor upon the class to which I belong? I cast the word "vermin" in his teeth. He and others are glad enough to avail themselves of our services when they need them. Fordham says that to establish his innocence (or bring about his acquittal, which I suppose means the same thing) a miracle is needed. Not at all. If it is done, common sense will do it. So, to work. How many persons in the drama? Leaving out Ellen Cameron, who is not connected with the mystery, six. Mrs. Fordham, John Fordham's stepmother. Dead. Louis Fordham. Dead. Barbara, wife of John Fordham. Dead. Annette, the French maid. Disappeared. No mention of her. Maxwell. Alive. Where was he? John Fordham. In prison. There remained, therefore, only one person upon whom there was a likelihood of laying hands. Maxwell. I must see him. John Fordham would be able to give me his address. I decided to seek an interview with John Fordham early in the morning. But would it be easy to find Maxwell? He was accessory after the fact. John Fordham seems not to have thought of that. Maxwell, with better knowledge of the law, undoubtedly thought of it. Natural conclusion--Maxwell would keep out of the way. No reason why he should not be tracked. It was something in my line. About the house in Rye street, in which Louis Fordham met his death, and the circumstances of the fatal struggle. Was it likely that Louis alone knew of the house and had no confederates? Not at all likely. Who were his confederates? I put the name of one on paper--Maxwell. Good! A ray of light. Like looking through a chink in the floor. I saw possibilities.