“Marjorie,” replied Stewart listlessly. “Miss Lennox has made no mention, as far as my knowledge and memory go, of having been in here after Colonel Leach-Fletcher went. Yet I am certain she came in, and I am equally certain of the reason that brought her. When she left your father, he sent her to fetch you.” Anthony made this statement very confidently and went straight on to invest it with more significance. “It was _because_ of what Miss Lennox told your father that he _immediately_ sent for you—she went to him to complain of the lover-like attentions of his secretary.” “Of course,” burst out Stewart, “you can’t be sure of that—you’re speculating somewhat, aren’t you?” “On the contrary, Mr. Stewart,” came Anthony’s reply, “I have been able to obtain conclusive proof of what I have just said!” “What sort of proof?” demanded Stewart. “Proof about which there isn’t a shadow of a doubt—_proof in Morgan Llewellyn’s own handwriting_.” Stewart let a look of complete astonishment pass over his face. “Honestly, I hadn’t the least idea.” “I don’t suppose you had! Now I want to talk about another matter. And I want you to give me your absolute confidence again, and eventually, your entire obedience. I want this house to be shut up after to-morrow morning’s ceremony!” “What?” muttered Stewart. Anthony leaned over to him and spoke in very quiet tones. “I want you to announce this evening to all your staff that Assynton Lodge is to be left empty from say to-morrow midday. Tell Llewellyn to take a month’s leave—tell all the servants the same thing. Send Miss Lennox to friends or to an hotel in town, and tell her you will join her in a few days. I shall want you with me. Let Colonel Leach-Fletcher know—let the whole world know—make it as public as you possibly can—and leave the place as soon as is convenient to you, to-morrow afternoon.” Stewart looked dumbfounded. “But I must leave somebody here. How about all the valuables—I shouldn’t care to lose them all.” Anthony considered the point that he raised. “I see your point. Very well, then—leave Butterworth and his wife here—he’s the best to stay behind—_but nobody else_!” Stewart still looked at him in amazement. “Where am I to go myself?” he questioned. “I’ll tell you to-morrow midday,” answered Anthony. “Meanwhile will you do as I suggest?” Stewart’s answer came a trifle wearily. “I’ve placed myself in your hands, Mr. Bathurst—I must be content to leave the matter entirely to you.” Then he seemed to think of something. “What about Mr. Daventry and Inspector Goodall?” “Leave them to me—and answer me one more question. When your father had that interview with you—did he by any chance mention to you the peculiar provisions of his will?”