“You don’t mean to say so! A relation of Lord Cheriton’s?” “His cousin, a distant cousin, but warmly attached to him and—his. The motive of my inquiry need be no secret. A dastardly murder was committed last summer in Lord Cheriton’s house——” “Yes, I remember the circumstances.” “A seemingly motiveless murder; unless it was the act of some secret foe—foe either of the man who was killed—or of his wife’s father, Lord Cheriton. I have reason to know that the young man who was killed had never made an enemy. His life was short and blameless. Now, a malignant cur, such as the man you describe—a man possessed by the devil of drink—would be just the kind of creature to assail the strong man through his defenceless daughter. To murder her husband was to break her heart, and to crush her father’s hopes. This man may have discovered long beforehand how my cousin had built upon that marriage—how devoted he was to his daughter, and how ambitious for her. Upon my soul, I believe that you have given me the clue. If we are to look for a blind unreasoning hatred—malignity strong enough and irrational enough to strike the innocent in order to get at the guilty—I do not think we can look for it in a more likely person than in the husband of Mrs. Danvers.” “Perhaps not,” said Mr. Adkins, keenly interested, yet dubious. “But, granted that he is the man, how are you to find him? It is about four and twenty years since he stood where you are standing now, and I have never set eyes on him from that day to this—close upon a quarter of a century. I can’t tell you his calling, or his kindred, the place where he lived, or even the name he bore, with any certainty. Danvers may have been only an assumed name—or it may have been his name. There’s no knowing—or rather there’s only one person likely to be able to help you in the matter, and that is Lord Cheriton.” “It would be difficult to question him upon such a subject.” “Of course it would; and I don’t suppose that even he has taken the trouble to keep himself posted in the movements of that very ugly customer. Having shunted the lady he wouldn’t be likely to concern himself about the gentleman.” “A quarter of a century,” said Theodore, too thoughtful to give a direct answer. “Yes, it must be very difficult to trace any man after such an interval; but if that man went to Cheriton Chase he must have left some kind of trail behind him, and it will go hard with me if I don’t get upon that trail. I thank you, Mr. Adkins, for the most valuable information I have obtained yet, and if any good comes of it you shall know. Good night.” “Good night, sir. I shall be very glad to aid in the cause of justice. Yes, I remember the Cheriton Chase murder, and I should like to see the mystery cleared up.” CHAPTER XXIII.