Goodall turned quickly at the surprising intelligence, but all he could see was Mr. Bathurst’s retreating figure. Which, as may be guessed, afforded him no enlightenment. CHAPTER XX Mr. Bathurst Brushes Up His History An observer of discernment would have formed the opinion that Mr. Bathurst had fallen a victim to the fascination of the history of the Stuarts. At least half a dozen volumes were ranged round him; and the same discerning observer, had he been sufficiently discourteous to peer over Mr. Bathurst’s shoulder as he read, would have discovered that the life of Mary, Queen of Scots, appeared to present special features of absorbing interest. “Before we begin looking for anything”—murmured Mr. Bathurst to himself—“it will probably be as well if we attempt to satisfy ourselves as to what exactly we are looking for.” He took from his pocket-book a copy of the paragraph from “The Memoirs of M. Réné de St. Maure” that Peter Daventry had made, and read it through carefully more than once. “If these memoirs are in any way reliable and authentic,” he reasoned, “two screens were used in some special way towards the temporary disposal, at least, of part of Mary’s possessions. My task then, is to discover (a) what particular part this was? (b) are the two screens mentioned by M. de St. Maure the two that have figured so prominently in the Hanover Galleries and Assynton Lodge murders? and (c) if so, what is the secret the screens contain that affects the hiding-place of whatever was hidden?” He turned again, to the paragraph. At any rate, there was a distinct reference within it that bore unmistakably on the query he had designated as (a)—“The Cardinal’s great gift”! So far so good—but which Cardinal? Mr. Bathurst had a shrewd suspicion that more than one gentleman entitled to the description of “His Eminence” had figured in the life of the tragic Mary. That was certainly one point upon which it would be necessary for him to reassure himself. “If I had the wretched screens in front of me, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he mused—“as it is I’m working with a couple of second-hand descriptions of them.” He tapped his front teeth with the butt of his fountain-pen; Peter Daventry in the one instance and Miss Lennox in the other, might have missed vital points in their descriptions. He looked through two of the histories that seemed to deal more closely with the minute details of Mary’s career than any of the others and was successful after a time in finding three references to the Chief Armorer—Thibaut Girardier. But no mention could be discovered concerning Girardier’s special work in connection with the two screens. “Many secret places of Wild Scotland,” he quoted—“would give us a pretty extensive field to cover—‘O Caledonia, stern and wild!’” Then his thoughts reverted again to the one bizarre description that he did possess of “The Cardinal’s great gift”—“The Black Twenty-Two!” What was meant exactly