"By no means. I am only surprised at your able handling of the matter, and--ah--a little surprised, perhaps, at some omissions which seem to have occurred in my conduct of the case. May I ask you, Mr. Durgan, if you have had any corroboration of the idea that this note came from Beardsley, either from him or from your wife?" "No. Certainly not. I only know what Miss Claxton said before the coroner." "Miss Claxton never gave that evidence. Until you told me a moment ago I never heard the note came from Beardsley. I am shocked and surprised." Durgan started. "Surely I am quoting the verbatim report." "I can see, Mr. Durgan, that you believe Miss Claxton did say this; and as it was not given publicly, someone must have told you in private. I will not ask you again the source of your information, which I now suppose to have been Miss Bertha." "I have made a mistake," said Durgan. "But only in telling me what you would have withheld, and what, it would appear, those for whom I have done everything have long withheld--the one thing that it most behooved me to know." The lawyer stopped in his walk, and spoke, shaken with distress. "I will admit to you, Mr. Durgan, that for years I have been aware that my clients withheld something from me; I may say 'bitterly aware,' for, the trial being over, I could not with delicacy renew my questions. But I believed in their integrity, and have assured myself that their secret must be unimportant. You can estimate how acute is my present distress when I perceive that this concealment has covered what was the vital point, the clue to the murderer." "I had no intention of telling you anything they did not tell you, Mr. Alden. At the same time, no one would be more glad than myself if they could emerge from the shadow of this mystery. But I think, as I said to you at the beginning, that unless you obtain Miss Claxton's permission to act further, you ought to leave the matter in her hands. You must trust to her good sense and good feeling." Durgan had paused at his own turning; Alden went a few steps further and faced round, hat in hand. Under the trees, in the glimmer of the summer night, his jaded attitude and unkempt hair were just seen and no more. He looked, indeed, like a storm-tossed soul, already in the shades of some nether world. Even then he summoned up all that he might of his precise manner: "My dear sir--my dear sir! I have had more experience of such matters than you, and much more knowledge of this most distressing and mysterious case. I thank you for your advice. I thank you. I must act according to my own conscience." Chapter XXVII A HOUND ON THE SCENT