"Go on, man," he exclaimed: "for heaven's sake tell me what you mean!" "I mean this," returned Marsden. "You not only convinced me that Miss Seymour is the Professor's granddaughter, but you opened my eyes to one of the most remarkable and cleverly laid crimes that it's ever been my job to tackle." "Who did it?" demanded Colin. "Who killed the Professor?" "I am not referring to the murder. I don't believe that had anything to do with the original scheme. It was an accident--a very awkward accident, and quite unforeseen. In all probability no one regretted it more bitterly than the two men who were chiefly responsible for it--Major Fenton and Mr. Medwin." "Mr. Medwin!" repeated Colin in a whisper. "Yes," was the answer. "I'll stake my official reputation that the whole of this interesting plan originated in the brain of Mr. James Stanhope Medwin, solicitor, commissioner for oaths, and I should think about the most complete rascal that ever cheated a client." Colin drew in a long breath. "I was right then. I felt that he was up to some devil's work the first time I saw him." He leaned forward again, his eyes alight with anger. "How did you find all this out?" "Well, one thing was quite plain; whoever broke into the Red Lodge the first time was after some particular object which the Professor kept in his desk. According to his own statement to you, he had nothing there except his private papers, and, unless my information was wrong, the only person who was likely to have known this was Medwin. I always make it a rule in business to suspect everyone, no matter who they are, and so, in spite of our friend's plausible manner and professional standing, I put him on the list straight away. "It was the merest guesswork at first, but when I discovered that the Professor had left a large fortune and had made no will, I began to wonder whether this rather important fact had any connection with the attempt to search his papers. Supposing that Medwin had had reasons for believing in the existence of a legal heir, but at the same time had been unable to get hold of any definite information on the subject. It was quite conceivable--allowing him to be a bad lot--that he might have arranged the burglary with a little professional assistance, and, for all we knew, might even have succeeded in finding out what he wanted.