Though French was enthusiastic about his discovery, he saw that it involved one disconcerting point. What about the theory of Berlyn’s guilt? The ring at the office door had come shortly before ten. But shortly before ten Berlyn was at Tavistock. Therefore some other person was involved. Was this person the murderer and had he made away with Berlyn as well as Pyke? Or was he Berlyn’s accomplice? French inclined to the latter supposition. In considering the timing of the car he had seen that it could have been used to carry the body to the works provided an accomplice was ready to drive it back to the moor without delay. On the whole, therefore, it looked as if the murder was the work of two persons, of whom Berlyn was one. But whether principal or accomplice, it was at least certain that the man who had drugged Gurney’s food knew the works intimately and had access to the key in the office. Only a comparatively small number of persons could fill these requirements and he should, therefore, be quickly found. Well pleased with his day’s work, French returned to the hotel and spent the remainder of the evening in writing up his diary. Chapter Twelve The Duplicator The saying “it never rains but what it pours” is a popular expression of the unhappy fact that misfortunes never come singly. Fortunately for suffering humanity, the phrase expresses only half the truth. Runs of good luck occur as well as runs of bad. As French was smoking his after-breakfast pipe in the lounge next morning it was borne in on him that he was at that time experiencing one of the most phenomenal runs of good luck that had ever fallen to his lot. Four days ago he had proved that the dead man was Pyke. Two days later he had learned how the breakdown of the car had been faked. Yesterday he had found the explanation of the watchman’s inaction, and to-day, just at that very moment, an idea had occurred to him which bade fair to solve the problem of the disposal of the duplicator! Unfortunately, nothing could be done towards putting it to the test until the evening. He spent the day, therefore, in a long tramp on the moor, then about five o’clock walked for the second time to Gurney’s house. “I want to have another chat with you,” he explained. “I haven’t time to wait now, but I shall come up to the works later in the evening. Listen out for my ring.” He strolled back to the town, had a leisurely dinner, visited the local picture house, and killed time until after eleven. Then when the little town was asleep he went up to the works. Five minutes later he was seated with Gurney in the boiler-house. “I have been thinking over this affair, Gurney,” he began, “and I am more than ever certain that some terrible deeds were done here on that night when you were drugged. I want to have another look around. But you must not under any circumstances let it be known that I was here.” “That’s all right, guv’nor. I ain’t goin’ to say nothing.” French nodded.