_But_—and this is the real object of this letter—if ever there’s a question of her benefiting by the knowledge (I don’t suppose there ever will be), I wanted you to know the facts. It seemed to me to be only fair to her. And, in that case, I ask you to use _your own discretion_—just as I should have done. You’re a wiser man than I am but even I could solve the problem as to whether it would be better for the girl to know of her father’s crime for the sake of any material advantage that might occur, or whether a mind based on the contentment of ignorance is not really worth more than worldly dross. I know I’m a queer chap, and it’s because I’m queer that I haven’t mentioned places. You’re shrewd enough to find out the facts for yourself if occasion arises. And as the finding out of the facts would take you a little time, I’ve tied you up, so that you can have plenty of leisure for decision. That’s all. If the aforementioned gods drop me, you’ll see that Winifred gets my little lot of possessions. And to recompense you for this—and for making further investigations if you have to do so—please take the enclosed bank-note for a hundred pounds, with every good wish from Your sincere friend, Reginald Templeton. The lawyer carefully replaced this document in its envelope and locked it up. “A queer letter,” he said to himself; “but then, Templeton was not an ordinary sort of man. Of course, I can easily find out about this fellow Forbes, if I want to, but it seems to me, at present, that there’s nothing to do—yes, it wouldn’t be fair to tell the girl. I can quite understand the policy of bringing her up in ignorance of her father’s crime. “Well, anyway,” he went on, “this matter has nothing to do with the murder.” He took up the superintendent’s letter and read it again. “So Moss is out of the running,” he soliloquised, “and the diamonds are accounted for. So it could hardly be robbery—unless,” and he went on thoughtfully, “unless, of course, someone else knew he had those diamonds on him—and did not know he had handed them over to Moss. That looks feasible. It’s a rational motive for the crime. I wonder who this other suspect is that the police say they have an eye on? “There’s another queer thing about this murder,” he reflected. “Hardly any papers were found in the cabin, and none on Templeton’s body. Yet there were about thirty pounds in notes in the open locker. If the murderer was after the diamonds, and didn’t find them, why did he take any papers? For Templeton must have had a pocket-book or something on him. It’s a rum case. I wonder if the police will ever solve it. Well, perhaps there will be some fresh light at the inquest. Anyhow, I can’t give any more time to it just now.” It wasn’t long before Winnie Cotterill saw Grayson. He called at the flat and had tea. Maude Wingrave came in just after he had arrived. Winnie told them the news.