“Jersey is not a large place. If I were following up this inquiry I should go first for the son who is supposed to have died in Jersey,” he said, when he had heard all. “I should follow that line as far as it goes, and then I should hunt up the particulars of the Colonel’s death, the gentleman who was drowned at Nice. If any Strangway had a hand in the business, it must have been one of those two, or the son of one of them. But I tell you plainly, Mr. Dalbrook, that I don’t put any faith in that poor lady’s notion—no, not that much,” said the detective, snapping his fingers contemptuously. “Yet it was you yourself who first mooted the idea of a vendetta.” “So it was; but I didn’t mean a vendetta on such grounds as that. An estate changes hands, and—after twenty years and more—the original holders try to murder the son-in-law of the purchaser! That won’t hold water, sir. There’s not enough human passion in it. I’ve had to study humanity, Mr. Dalbrook. It’s been a part of my profession, and perhaps I’ve studied human nature closer than many a philosopher who sits in his library and writes a book about it. Now, there’s no human nature in that notion of Lady Carmichael’s. A man may be very savage because his spendthrift father has squandered his estate, and he may feel savage with the lucky man who bought and developed that estate, and may envy him in his enjoyment of it—but he won’t nurse his wrath for nearly a quarter of a century, and then give expression to his feelings all at once with a revolver. _That_ isn’t human nature.” “How about the exception to every rule? Might not this be an exceptional case?” “It might, of course. There’s no truer saying than that fact is stranger than fiction; but, for all that, this notion of Lady Carmichael’s is a young lady’s notion, and it belongs to fiction and not to fact. I wouldn’t waste my time upon it, if I were you, Mr. Dalbrook.” “I must keep my promise, Mr. Churton. I am obliged to you for your plain speaking, and I am inclined to agree with you; but I have made a promise, and I must keep it.” “Naturally, sir; and if in the course of your inquiries I can be of any use to you, I shall be very glad to co-operate.” “I rely on your help. Remember there is a handsome reward to be earned by you if you can bring about the discovery of the murderer. My part in the search will count for nothing.” “I understand, sir. That’s a stimulus, no doubt; but I hardly wanted it. When a case baffles me as this case has done, I would work day and night, and live on bread and water for a month, to get at the rights of it. Good day. You’ve got my private address, and you can wire me anywhen.” “You’re a Sussex man, Mr. Churton, I fancy?” “Born in the village of Bramber.” * * * * *