"Well," drawled Conniston, slipping his precis and the diary itself into an envelope, "I don't see what he had to gain. Tolomeo, from your account of him, would not commit a murder without getting some money from doing it. But the best thing to do, is to take this up to Durham and see what he thinks." "I'll come too," said Gore, excitedly. "I tell you, Dick, I'm dead tired of doing nothing. It will be better to do what Miss Berengaria suggests and give myself up." "Wait a bit," persuaded Dick. "Let me take this up to Durham, and if he agrees you can be arrested." Bernard was unwilling to wait, but finally he yielded sullenly to Conniston's arguments. Dick with the precious parcel went up to town alone, and Bernard did what he could to be patient. CHAPTER XVIII TOLOMEO'S STORY Durham was much excited when he read the account which Conniston had extracted from Mrs. Gilroy's diary. However, he declined to give an opinion until he read the diary itself. He then told Dick that the discovery had been made in the nick of time. "The Italian is coming to see me to-morrow," he said, showing a letter. "I advertised that he would hear of something to his advantage if he called, as Bernard wants to help him. When he comes, you may be sure that I shall get the truth out of him." "Do you think he's guilty, Mark?" "It is hard to say," replied Durham, shaking his head. "The whole case is so mixed that one doesn't know who is guilty or innocent." "Save Bernard," put in Conniston, lighting a cigarette. "Certainly. However, we may learn something of the truth from----" "Not Mrs. Gilroy," said Conniston quickly, "unless you have succeeded in finding her." "No, I have not been so lucky. She has vanished altogether. But Beryl may be able to tell something." "But he won't." "I am not so sure of that. We have Jerry in our hands, and that young scamp is in the employment of Beryl. He will have to explain how the boy came to lure Bernard to Crimea Square in time to be accused." "Why not ask Jerry?" "Because Jerry would immediately run away. No, I'll wait. Perhaps Michael may speak out. He's ill enough." "Michael?" echoed Conniston in amazement. "What of him?" "Oh, the dickens!" said Durham in quite an unprofessional way, and stood up to warm himself at the fire in his favorite attitude. "I didn't intend to tell you that." "Tell me what?" "That we had caught Michael Gilroy, or Gore, or whatever he chooses to call himself." "Have you caught him? Well, I'm hanged!" "I hope he won't be," said Durham, grimly. "I did not catch him myself. He came one night last week to the Bower to see Miss Malleson." Conniston jumped up with an exclamation. "That is playing a daring game," he said. "Why, the fellow must know that she would spot him."