"Now, Mr Kellaway," said Raife, when they were alone together in the library, and the young baronet had explained what had occurred. "You have been my father's very intimate friend, as well as his solicitor for many years. I want to ask you a simple question. Are you aware that my father held a secret--some secret of the past?" "Not to my knowledge, Mr Raife--or Sir Raife, as I suppose I ought to call you now," was the sombre, and rather sad, man's reply. "Well, he had a secret," exclaimed Raife, looking at him, searchingly. "How do you know?" "He told Edgson, the butler, before he died." "Told his servant his secret!" echoed the lawyer, knitting his brows. "No. He told him something--not all." "What did he tell him?" asked Mr Kellaway, in quick eagerness. "My father said he wished that he had been frank with me, and revealed the truth." "Of what?" "Of his secret. He left me a message, urging me to beware of the trap. Of what nature is the pitfall?" asked the young man. "You, his friend, must know." "I regret, but I know absolutely nothing," declared the solicitor, frankly. "This is all news to me. What do you think was the nature of the secret? Is it concerning money matters?" "No. I believe it mainly concerns a woman," the young man replied. "My father had no financial worries. He was, as you know, a rich man. Evidently he was anxious on my behalf, or he would not have given Edgson that message. Ah! If his lips could only speak again--poor, dear guv'nor." And the young man sighed. "Perhaps Edgson knows something?" the solicitor suggested. "He knows nothing. He only suspects that there is a lady concerned in it, for my father, before his death, referred to `her'." "Your respected father was my client and friend through many years," said Mr Kellaway. "As far as I know, he had no secrets from me." Raife looked him straight in the face for a few moments without speaking. Like all undergraduates he had no great liking for lawyers. "Look here, Kellaway," he said slowly. "Are you speaking the truth?" "The absolute truth," was the other's grave reply. "Then you know of no secret of my father's. None--eh?" "Ah, that is quite a different question," the solicitor said. "During the many years I have acted for your late father I have been entrusted with many of his secrets--secrets of his private affairs and suchlike matters with which a man naturally trusts his lawyer. But there was nothing out of the common concerning any of them." "Nothing concerning any lady?" "Nothing--I assure you." "Then what do you surmise regarding `the trap,' about which my father left me this inexplicable message?" "Edgson may be romancing," the lawyer suggested. "In every case of a sudden and tragic death, the servant, male or female, always has some curious theory concerning the affair, some gossip or some scandal concerning their employer."