“I don't think you would.” Christine spoke entreatingly. “You would be much too conscious of the fact that Mr. Carter is in a terrible position. He doesn't speak, obviously because there is some good reason why he can't, not because he won't.” “He doesn't even give that much explanation;” but Mr. Meukes' tone was less indignant. “If you think Mr. Carter is a man to tamely or lightly submit to being broadcasted as a murderer and a thief, you can't have had a square look at him. Does he look a rabbit?” Mr. Meukes hastily agreed that he certainly did not, for Christine had spoken with warmth. “Did he give you no message for me?” “Yes, he told me to tell you, in strictest secrecy, that he was thankful you had come, and that if you could remain on this side of the Atlantic, as you told me to tell him you would, he might be very glad of your help later on. He was really most awfully touched by your coming and by your having sent me.” Christine told him that she was going abroad for some time possibly, unless Carter would prefer to have her stay closer at hand. She gave Mr. Russell's address to the solicitor and asked him to wire her Carter's reply. Mr. Russell, like Pointer, took a liking to the Canadian girl. He sent off a letter at once to Mrs. Erskine recommending Miss West to her, and gave Christine a letter of introduction to hand her personally. “I'm sure she will welcome you. After all, the poor leddy has little enough that she knows about her only son.” Christine looked down her nose. “I shouldn't build on that. Mrs. Erskine must be an iceberg.” Mr. Russell opened his eyes. “My dear young leddy, anything but! Let me assure you she spends far too much on charity. Far too much.” “She let her ‘only son’ have a fearful struggle for years and years when she could have helped him, and never missed the money. She let the Mills for which he had worked so hard slip through his fingers at the last moment.” Mr. Russell was amazed. “She sent him large sums of money regularly. I've seen his letters thanking her for the sums sent and asking for more and always getting it. Aye, _always_ getting it. As for the last thousand pounds, he only asked for one thousand. I know what I am speaking of. The Chief Inspector could have told you the same.” Christine was bewildered. So bewildered that she held her tongue. “Did you ever _see_ the letters Robert Erskine wrote. I mean see them yourself?” No, Christine had to acknowledge that she never had. “Or any of Mrs. Erskine's letters to him?” Christine had again to acknowledge that she never had seen one.