There was in my mind the design, not yet thoroughly planned out, of having Louis' body exhumed, in order that its identity might be established beyond the possibility of doubt. This would effectually dispose of Jack's fancies, which, after further reflection, I set down to the stings of conscience, and as properly belonging to that form of imaginative creation which had conjured up the vision of Louis' body lying on a billiard cloth and on green fields. To establish this identity witnesses would be required. I could give evidence as to the scar upon the forehead, but only from what I had been told; it would be secondary evidence, and therefore not admissible. I mentally ran through the names of the witnesses whose evidence, from personal knowledge, would be of value. John Fordham, for one. Though it might tell against himself, he would be ready and willing to testify. I needed nothing to convince me that he was a truthful and honorable man who would not palter with his conscience even though it added to the peril in which he stood. Then, Jack. But it would bring him into danger. A far different character he from Fordham. He would be dragged forward against his will, and in these circumstances his word could not be depended upon. In the present aspect of the affair his was the only evidence upon which Fordham's innocence could be to some extent proved. Believing himself to be in danger such a man as Jack would be capable of anything; he might deny all that he had admitted, he might even concoct a story which would throw the entire guilt upon the man I was trying to save. Therefore, Jack's evidence upon this question of identity could not be reckoned with just now. For a time at least it must be set aside. Then, Louis' mother. But her son's name had appeared in the papers as that of the man whom, by Fordham's confession, he had murdered. It must not be forgotten that I was convinced she was living. That being so, why was she silent? Why did she remain in hiding? That was one of the unanswered questions in the Mystery. Then, Maxwell. Also in hiding. He, of all who were associated in the mystery, was the least likely to come forward of his own free will. Then, Morgan---- At his name my reflections were diverted into another channel. Three thousand pounds was a handsome sum--a Godsend to such a man. Why had he not claimed it? There was more than one answer to the question. He might not be aware of his uncle's death; as his own mother did not know his address the solicitors to the will could not communicate with him. He might be dead; he might have left the country. If he were living would my advertisement in the personal columns of the newspapers be successful in unearthing him? It occurred to me that it would increase my chances of success if I advertised for him in his assumed name, and I drew out the following advertisement:--