“Thank you. The further point I want to know is what the position would be if Mr. Walter Brooklyn were to die before Sir Vernon. Who would be the residuary legatee in that case?” Woodman paused for a moment before replying. Then he said, “The residue would go, of course, to the next of kin.” “Who is that? I think you have not mentioned any other relatives.” “To the best of my belief, inspector, I myself am the next of kin after Walter Brooklyn.” The inspector whistled. “Then you would inherit the bulk of the money if Sir Vernon Brooklyn died after Walter Brooklyn.” “Yes, that is, unless a new will were made. I should, of course, have to inform Sir Vernon fully as to the circumstances.” “Quite so. And now there is just one further point. Sir Vernon has not, I suppose, shown any desire so far to amend his will.” “He is far too ill to be troubled at present with matters of business.” “I see. Then, so far as you know, the old will stands.” “Yes. Mr. Walter Brooklyn is at present the principal heir.” “Thank you, Mr. Woodman,” said the inspector, holding out his hand. When Inspector Blaikie had gone, Woodman sat down again at his desk to think things over. What was the purpose of the questions just addressed to him? Clearly, the police had some new idea in their minds. They had come to the conclusion, on grounds adequate or inadequate, that Walter Brooklyn was not the murderer, and they were clearly trying to find out afresh who else could have had a reasonable motive. That was the only possible reason for the careful inquiries into the terms of the will. Was it possible that the police had a real new clue—possibly even a definite suspicion? Would they even begin suspecting him, now they had discovered that he was next of kin? As long as Walter Brooklyn lived, he stood to gain nothing. It was ridiculous to think that he could be suspected. The inspector also had a good deal to think about when he left Woodman’s office. His first thought was to see his superior officer; but he found that the superintendent was out, and was not expected back for an hour or so. He made up his mind to fill in the interval by clearing up the new question, relating to Walter Brooklyn’s guilt, which Carter Woodman had raised. He took a taxi, and drove to Liskeard House, where he asked to see Miss Cowper. She received him at once, and he came straight to the point. “Miss Cowper, I have a question to ask you. You may think it a very peculiar one, and you need not answer it if you would rather not. I shall not tell any one that you refused, or that I asked it. I want to know whether, so far as you are aware, Mr. Thomas, your stepfather’s solicitor, at any time believed in his client’s guilt. I should not ask you, of course, if your stepfather had not been released. But I have a reason for asking.”