"Yes. He died mysteriously. The inquest was held yesterday;" and, taking up a letter from his table, the Earl added, "They report from Scotland Yard that an open verdict was returned, although one witness, a woman, alleged murder. Well, what was the allegation? Against yourself?" he asked, raising his grey, shaggy brows. "No," I said with emphasis. "I am not a murderer." "Then why did this woman--what's her name?--Ella Laing," he said, referring to the letter, "why did she allege foul play?" "I cannot tell; but all the facts I have ascertained point to the same conclusion, although the medical evidence negatived any such suggestion." "Then what is your contention?" "That the man who was my friend was a spy," I said. "You would shift the responsibility upon one who, being dead, can tell us nothing," he said in a tone of reproachful contempt. "I suspected this. It was but what might have been expected." "But I have evidence indisputable that he was a spy," I exclaimed excitedly. "Read this," and I handed to him Dudley's passport. Spreading it out before him, he carefully adjusted his gold _pince-nez_, and after a little difficulty translated it. Then, without expressing any surprise, he turned it over and held the paper to the light of the window, examining the water-mark. "Well," he exclaimed calmly at last, "what else?" I placed before him the crumpled sheets of foolscap whereon attempts had been made--and successfully too--to imitate my handwriting, explaining where I had discovered them. These he also examined very minutely, giving vent to a low grunt, as was habitual to him when reassured. "Anything more?" he asked impatiently. "I can't waste time. The outlook is too serious." "But you must--you shall spare time to fully investigate this mystery," I cried. "You will remember that the dummy envelope you took from your safe bore an imitation of your private seal?" "Yes. What of that?" "Here is the seal with which that impression was made," I replied in triumph, handing to him the little brass stamp. "I have had the portions of wax microscopically examined, and they are of the same wax as was used to seal the dummy." He took it between his thin fingers that now trembled with excitement. The production of this object was, I saw, entirely unexpected. Suddenly rising from his chair he unlocked his great safe and took therefrom the dummy envelope. Then, returning to his table, he lit a taper and carefully made an impression in wax of the seal I had given him, afterwards taking it to the light, and by the aid of a large magnifying glass compared it closely with the seal upon the dummy. "And where did you find this seal?" he inquired, glancing across to me. "Among the contents of the dead man's pockets," I answered. "Impossible!" he retorted. "The police have possession of everything found on the man." "Yes, they had, but this came into my possession yesterday at the inquest." "How?"