"If ever a grateful country makes me a judge, Mr. Holden," said Brett, "I will add another to the encomiums you have received from the Bench. Indeed, before this affair ends, that pleasant task may be performed by an existing judge, for I do not see now how we are going to keep out of the law-courts. Do you, Winter?" "Looks like a murder case plus a divorce," commented the detective. "You are leaving out of count the biggest sensation, namely, the title to the Beechcroft estates. Under her father's will, if it is very cleverly drawn, Mrs. Capella may receive £1,000 per annum. She has not the remotest claim to Beechcroft and its revenues or to her brother's intestate estate." Winter whistled. "My eye!" he exclaimed. "What is Capella going to get out of it?" "Revenge! His is a legacy of hate, like most other benefactions in the Hume-Frazer family. The next move rests with him. I wonder what it will be!" CHAPTER XXVIII MR. AND MRS. JIRO Chance, at times, tangles the threads on which human lives depend, and creates such a net of knots and meshes that intelligent foresight is rendered powerless, and plans that ought to succeed are doomed to utter failure. It was so during the three days succeeding Capella's return from Italy. Reviewing events in the lights of accomplished facts, Brett subsequently saw many opportunities where his intervention would have altered the fortunes of the men and women in whom he had become so interested. Although he endeavoured to keep control of circumstances, it was impossible to predict with certainty the manner in which the fifth act of this tragedy in real life would unfold itself. Would he have ordered things differently had he possessed the power? He never knew. It was a question he refused to discuss with Winter long after everybody was comfortably married or buried, as the case might be. To divide labour and responsibility, he apportioned Ooma and his surroundings to Winter, Capella to Holden. The strict supervision maintained over the Jiro family was relaxed. Brett proposed dealing with them summarily and in person. Holden had barely concluded his remarkable narrative when Hume's reply came from Whitby, giving the address of the hotel where Fergusson resided. Brett went there at once, and found the old butler on the point of retiring for the night. Fergusson was at first disinclined to commit himself to definite statements. With characteristic Scottish caution, he would neither say "yes" nor "no" until the barrister reminded him that he was not acting in his young master's interests by being so reticent. "Weel, sir, I'm an auld man, and mebbe a bit haverin' in my judgment. Just ask me what ye wull, an' I'll dae my best to answer ye," was the butler's ultimate concession. "You remember the day of the murder?" "Shall I ever forget it?" "Before Mr. David Hume-Fraser arrived at Beechcroft from London, had any other visitors seen Sir Alan?"