"Your affair and Harborough's are inextricably mixed, my dear sir," retorted Carfax, good-humouredly. "I'm coming to the mingling of them. Well," he continued, addressing himself again to Brereton. "This is how things are--or were. I must tell you that the eldest brother of the late Squire of Wraye married John Harborough's aunt--secretly. They had not been married long before the husband emigrated. He went off to Australia, leaving his wife behind until he had established himself--there had been differences between him and his family, and he was straitened in means. In his absence our friend here was born--and at the same time, sad to say, his mother died. The child was brought up by Harborough's mother--Mr. Wraythwaite and Harborough are foster-brothers. It remained in the care of Harborough's mother--who kept the secret of the marriage--until it was seven years old. Then, opportunity occurring, it was taken to its father in Australia. The father, Matthew Wraythwaite, made a big fortune in Australia, sheep-farming. He never married again, and the fortune, of course, came at his death to his only son--our friend. Now, he had been told of the secret marriage of his father, but, being possessed of an ample fortune himself, he concerned himself little about the rest of the old family. However, a year or so ago, happening to read in the newspapers about the death of the old Squire, his uncle, and the difficulty of definitely deciding the real heirship, he came over to England. But he had no papers relating to his father's marriage, and he did not know where it had taken place. At that time he had not consulted me--in fact, he had consulted no one. If he had consulted me," continued Carfax, with a knowing wink at Brereton, "we should have put him right in a few hours. But he kept off lawyers--and he sought out the only man he could remember--his foster-brother, Harborough. And by Harborough's advice, they met secretly. Harborough did not know where that marriage had taken place--he had to make inquiries all over this district--he had to search registers. Now and then, my client--not my client then, of course--came to see Harborough; when he did so, he and Harborough met in quiet places. And on the night on which that man Kitely was murdered," concluded the solicitor, "Harborough was with my client from nine o'clock until half-past four in the morning, when he parted with him near Hexendale railway station. Mr. Wraythwaite will swear that." "And fortunately, we have some corroboration," observed Brereton, with a glance at Avice, "for whether Mr. Wraythwaite knows it or not, his meeting with Harborough on the moors that particular night was witnessed." "Capital--capital!" exclaimed Carfax. "By a credible--and creditable--witness?" "An old woman of exceptional character," answered Brereton, "except that she indulges herself in a little night-poaching now and then."