"Yes," said he a trifle vindictively, "we must build our gallows stanch and strong. You can proceed with your toilet, and afterward we will read novels and newspapers, as you suggest. The result of our reading must appear in our actions. I rather think," he added slowly, "that the result will be a visit to Mr. Hilliston." "Without doubt. He was an eye-witness, and it is always preferable to obtain evidence first hand." "Then," said Claude reflectively, "there is Mrs. Bezel." "Quite so! The enterprising lady who started the whole thing. Was she also an eye-witness?" "I can't say. Her name does not appear in the newspapers." "Humph!" muttered Tait, scratching his chin. "Nor in those three volumes can I find a character likely to develop into Mrs. Bezel of Hampstead." "I wonder who she can be," said Claude curiously, "or what she can have to do with the case." "That we must find out. Depend upon it, there is more in this case than in newspapers or novel. We must find out all about Mrs. Bezel, and," said Tait, with emphasis, "we must learn all that is to be learned concerning John Parver." "Who is John Parver?" "Who was the Man in the Iron Mask?" replied Tait, in a bantering tone. "I cannot say. But whomsoever he may be, he knows all about this case." "There is that possibility, certainly," assented the other smoothly, "but I think it hardly likely. A man of to-day would not readily come across the account of a tragedy occurring in a little known town twenty-five years ago. Do you know," he added, after a pause, "that it occurs to me that the publication of this book, containing an account of the case, may have been the cause which incited Mrs. Bezel to write the letter." "I thought so myself. Mrs. Bezel may think that John Parver is a _nom de plume_ assumed by Claude Larcher." "Or another alternative. Mrs. Bezel may be John Parver herself. It is the fashion nowadays for women to write under the names of men." There was a few minutes' silence, during which each man was intent on his own thoughts. Tait, whose brain turned quicker than that of Larcher, was the first to break the silence. "Well," said he, moving briskly toward his bedroom door, "before we can say or do anything we must learn the facts of the case." As he vanished into his room Claude laid his hand on the first of the three volumes. CHAPTER VII. "LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE."