"I suppose, Mr. Crosland, you have no suspicions regarding this affair?" "I don't quite understand what you mean." "Let me put it in another way," said the professor, "and please do not think that I am suggesting you fired too hastily. Immediately you heard the noise, you remembered the burglars who have caused a sensation in Grange Park recently. It was quite natural, but it seems to me rather strange that so astute a gang should commence operations in the same neighborhood again. For the sake of argument, let us suppose this gang had nothing to do with the affair. Now can you think of any one who might have something to gain by breaking into Clarence Lodge?" "No, I cannot; and yet--" "Well," said Quarles. "I can think of no one; I recall no family skeleton, but there is one curious fact. This gang seemed to know exactly where to go for their spoil--jewels mostly, and there is nothing of that kind worth taking at Clarence Lodge." "That goes to support my argument, doesn't it?" "It does." "That is the reason I asked particularly about your cousin." "George Radley is like a brother," laughed Crosland, "our interests are identical." "Oh, it was only a point that occurred to me as an outsider," Quarles returned. "We can leave him out of the argument and yet not be convinced there is no family skeleton. You might perhaps question your mother without explaining the reason, although I suppose she will have to know about this affair presently." "I hope not." "Acute rheumatism, isn't it? I wonder if she has ever heard of a quack who made a new man of me. What was his name now?" "Was it Bush?" Crosland asked. "No, but it was a commonplace name." "As a matter of fact a man named Bush has been to see my mother. I dare not tell Dr. Heathcote; at one time I fancy Bush did her good, or she got better naturally, but she believes in him. He hasn't been for some time now, but she was speaking of him the other day." "I'll look up my man's card and send it on to you," said Quarles. "You get Mrs. Crosland to see him, never mind Dr. Heathcote." "I didn't know you had suffered from rheumatism," I said to Quarles as we left the house. "Didn't you! Have it now sometimes. Well, Wigan, what do you make of this affair? Do you think the burglars are responsible?" "I want time to think." "We'll just call in and see Dr. Heathcote," said Quarles. The doctor was a young man rather overburdened with his own importance. He was inclined to think that Crosland had done Grange Park a service by shooting one of the burglar gang. "I only hope the authorities won't get sentimental and make it needlessly unpleasant for him." "I shouldn't think so," I returned. "I may take it, doctor, that the man had been dead only a short time when you saw him?" "Quite. Death must have been practically instantaneous."