"Yes; he sat beside Miss Thornton. I thought it rather strange that she should be present at the inquest, but it was evident she was much attached to Mr. Eversleigh in a daughterly way. They say she is engaged to his son." "Well, Westgate, how does that fit in with your theories about Silwood, Eversleigh's partner?" "Not very well, I admit, but we are only making guesses and trying to piece things out a bit. And I have not yet told you all that is in my mind." "Go on," said the editor, as Westgate looked at him for permission. "I paid very careful attention to the statement made by Inspector Gale. Now, he's not a great detective, but he's shrewd." The chief nodded assent. "In his statement, Gale never once spoke as if he thought Silwood was dead." "What do you say?" cried the other, aroused at last. "Did not speak as if he thought Silwood was dead! By Jove, that's a horse of another colour." In a flash he saw that, if Silwood was not dead, then the theories of Westgate were likely to become substantialities. "Gale wanted an open verdict; he actually recommended the jury to bring one in. He spoke of the murder being the work of either Silwood or the mysterious workman--that was before the medical men knocked the idea of murder into thin air--Gale was not prepared for that, I'll swear--but he never once spoke of Silwood as if he thought of Silwood as dead. I noticed that most particularly. Now, to go on with our supposings," said Westgate, with even greater eagerness than he already exhibited, "let us see where we are. Silwood is announced to have died of cholera at some outlandish place in the north of Italy. Perhaps he did, and perhaps he didn't. Say he did not, and that the whole thing is a plant, a put-up job?" Westgate paused abruptly, and looked at his chief. "Of course, I see your point," responded the editor. "You would say, following out your theories, that after locking the dead body of Thornton into his room, Silwood went to Italy, and has somehow or other had a false announcement of his death sent to England, hoping in this way to cover up his tracks effectually. But, once more, Westgate, my boy, where is the motive for all this astonishing business?" "That, I confess, I do not know. But if Silwood is alive, why then, he is to be found----" He broke off and gazed suggestively at the other. "And you are the man to find him! Eh, is that it?" asked the editor, as quick as lightning. "If you say the word!" Perceval, chief of the _Call_, leaned back in his chair, lost in debate within himself for a minute. As a rule, it did not take nearly so long as that for him to make up his mind. "All right," he said. "You can go. First, of course, you will go to this place in Italy and ascertain if Silwood died, was buried, and all the rest of it. That may be the end of your search; but if it is not, why then go ahead, Westgate. You'll start without delay, and let me know as soon as possible what you are doing."