Karl's errand in London was to find out what he could about Philip Salter. On the Saturday night, patiently searching the file of newspapers--the "Times"--he at length came upon the case. One Philip Salter had been manager to a financial firm in London, and for some years managed it honestly and very successfully. But he got speculating on his own account, lost and lost, and continued to lose, all the while using the funds, that were not his, to prop him up, and prevent exposure. To do this, unsuspected, he was forced to resort to forgery: to fabricate false bonds; to become, in short, one of the worst of felons. The day of discovery came; but Mr. Salter had not waited for it. He was off, and left no trace, as he thought, behind him. Some clue, however, fancied or real, was obtained by a clever ordinary police officer. He went down to Liverpool, seized Philip Salter on board an American vessel just about to steam out of port, and started with him for London at once by the night train, disguised as he was. Midway on the road, Salter did what only a desperate man, fighting for very life, would have dared to do--he jumped from the carriage and made his escape. So much Karl read: but, though he searched onwards, he could see nothing else. Some of the newspapers were missing; had not been filed; and, it might be, that they were the very papers that spoke further. He then resolved to seek information elsewhere. All day on the Sunday it had been floating through his mind. His wife's ankle was better. He walked to church with her as usual, sitting by her side in their conspicuous pew--placed sideways to the pulpit and exposed to the eyes of all the congregation. Throughout the service, throughout the sermon, Karl's mind was dwelling on the suspicion connecting Philip Smith with Philip Salter. Lucy thought him very still: as still and sad as herself. The only other conspicuous pew was opposite; it belonged to the vicarage. Margaret Sumnor was in it alone, in the half-reclining seat that had been made for her. Mrs. Sumnor rarely went to church in the morning: the younger daughters were of course at St. Jerome's. "I will go to London to-morrow," decided Karl in his own mind that night. "Could Smith be got away from his post of espionage it might be Adam's salvation." And that's what brought him taking the eleven o'clock train on Monday morning. His hansom cab conveyed him to Plunkett and Plunkett's. That he must conduct this inquiry in the most cautiously delicate manner, he knew well; or he might only make bad worse, and bring the hornet's nest, that he was always dreading, about his brother's head. Once let Smith--if he were really Salter--suspect that inquiries were being made about himself, and he might in revenge denounce Sir Adam.