"Oh, yes," said Sir Louis, leading the way. "It has been shut up since his death. You know my cousin was not a man of books, so he did not use it. As for myself, I am always in my laboratory in the old wing. If Sir Francis left any secret paper in his desk, it will be there still. Unless," added Louis, with an afterthought, "unless it was taken away by the woman he feared." "No. If the paper had given Madaline Garry power to revenge herself on the heir of her old lover, she would have used that power; and then Mrs. Prisom might have interfered by acting on the last request of Sir Francis. Nothing of this has happened; so I am sure that if the paper is in that desk, we shall find it; if we find it we shall learn the truth about this tattooed cross; and, consequently, discover the motive which prompted the murder of your cousin." After which speech, the detective went with Sir Louis to the study of the late Sir Francis Fellenger. Sir Louis unlocked the door; and they entered into the long-disused room. It had been shut up for many years, the atmosphere was dusty and musty, with a chill smell of decay. Fanks opened the shutters, and the strong sunlight poured into the apartment; it illumined the dusty carpet on which their feet made marks; it gleamed on the old-fashioned furniture, cumbersome and comfortless, such as was used in the early days of the Victorian era; and--to the satisfaction of the detective--it revealed a mahogany escritoire, all drawers and pigeon-holes, and brass handles. The key, massive and rusty, was still in the lock; and Louis, turning it over with, a harsh creak, threw open the heavy sheet of mahogany which covered the writing cloth. This was lined with dingy green cloth, ink-stained and dusty, but on it there rested no papers nor pens nor ink. Evidently the papers had been arranged before the desk had been closed, and left to its many years' solitude. Fanks bent down and unlocked the drawers one after the other. These contained nothing but masses of newspaper, everyone of which they examined carefully, but without finding any writing referring to the cross. There were also bundles of old letters; and musty accounts, and ancient records of ships, and stores, and divers expenses; doubtless remnants of Fellenger's naval days. In another drawer they found sea-shells, and seaweed mounted on cardboard; while some shallow repositories contained pictures, and small charts. But nowhere could they discover the paper to which Sir Francis had referred in that last long conversation with Mrs. Prisom. "Well, it is not in any of these," said Fanks, rising with a look of disappointment. "I wonder where it can be?" "Perhaps there is a secret drawer," suggested Sir Louis. "It is not unlikely; and no doubt the paper would be hidden in such a receptacle out of fear of the woman.