"Indeed, that is my opinion," returned Fanks. "Why was Sir Francis afraid of Madaline Garry? Because he had done her a wrong. Why did she marry Fielding, almost on the same day that your uncle married Miss Darmer? Why did Sir Francis tattoo the child with his favourite cross? The answer to all these questions is--to my mind--to be found in the fact that the child of Madaline Garry was also the child of Sir Francis Fellenger. I feel convinced that Hersham is the half-brother of the man who was murdered at Tooley's Alley." "It seems likely," assented Louis, nursing his chin with his hand. "But how can you establish the truth of your statement?" "There are two ways. One is by asking Binjoy. He may know as he was in attendance both at the birth of Gregory, and at that of Hersham. He may tell the truth; but as he is delirious, there is no chance of getting any information from him. The second way is to find out Madaline Garry, and force her to own up. But the only person who knows where she is, is Mrs. Jerusalem, who has vanished. If I find Mrs. Jerusalem, I may find the other woman. But at present that is impossible also." "Quite impossible. I do not see what you can do." "Do you remember what Mrs. Prisom said about the desk in the study of your late uncle?" "Yes. She alluded to some secret in connection with the desk, which was to be used for the benefit of Gregory, should Madaline Garry attempt to revenge herself." "Exactly. Well, we must examine the desk. I fancy that Sir Francis, dreading the anger of the woman whom he had wronged, wrote out a full account of his sin; and of the reason why he tattooed the cross on the arm of the child. If we can find that paper--which Sir Francis plainly hinted was in the desk, we may discover why your cousin was murdered." "I cannot conceive what you mean." "You will know soon enough," replied Fanks, a trifle sadly. "I have a very shrewd idea of what will be the outcome of my search. If things are as I think, it will not be long before I run down the assassin of Sir Gregory. I have an instinct--and more than an instinct--that the clue to the mystery which has eluded me so long, is about to be placed in my hand. I shall be pleased for my own sake; I shall be sorry for yours." "Why. What do you mean? I do not understand. Explain yourself, Mr. Fanks." "No," replied Fanks, shaking his head. "I may be wrong, and I do not wish to cause you unnecessary pain. Let me examine the desk. If I am wrong, all the better for you; all the worse for the case. If am right, I had rather you learned the truth without my intervention. Come, Sir Louis, let us seek the study of your late uncle. Do you know where it is?"