"One moment," broke in Jerce, as Barras unfolded a sheet of parchment with a judicial air. "We must tell you about the death, and--" "I have heard everything," interrupted the lawyer, mounting his golden pince-nez. "I have read all that was to be read in the papers." "And you think?--" "I think that my late client was the eighth victim of the Purple Fern series, murdered by the surviving villain." "And the motive?" questioned Miss Baird, suddenly. "The same motive that brought about the death of the other victims," was the solicitor's cold reply--"wealth, or, if you like, robbery." "I don't agree with you. Nothing was taken from the room." "How do you know?" "Because I know everything that is in the room, and nothing is missing. That is plain enough." "On the face of it," admitted Barras, "but I think that I can show you your error." "Do you mean to say that the motive for Uncle Henry's murder was robbery?" asked Ferdy, sitting up from his lounging attitude. "I do, and I have good reason to say so." "Then explain," said Clarice, curtly, but secretly bewildered. "I am about to do so, if you will permit me," said Barras, with his most acid smile. "I beg your pardon. Go on." Mr. Barras made a short explanation before reading the will, as they thought he was about to do. "Your parents," he began, looking at the twins, "Mr. and Mrs. Baird, lived at Tremby Hall, a short distance out of this town. Mr. Baird died, and left the property, which came to about four thousand a year, more or less, solely to his wife, your mother. When she died, the property was handed over to my late client, Mr. Henry Horran, who acted as your guardian. For this he received, under the late Mrs. Baird's will, five hundred a year. It was much needed by Mr. Horran, as he was then desperately poor." "How do you know that?" questioned Clarice, listening intently. "I was Mrs. Baird's lawyer, and afterwards became Mr. Horran's," said the iron-grey man, severely, "so I speak of what I know. Mr. Horran, as I have just explained, received five hundred a year, as your guardian. He had also, seeing that you both were infants, so to speak, complete control of the property--that is, you each were left two thousand a year, and it was arranged that you should come into possession at the age of twenty-five. Meanwhile, Mr. Horran was to look after you, educate you, and guide you." "He did all that," said Clarice, with emotion, although Ferdy did not openly second her speech, and wriggled uneasily. "At five hundred a year," remarked Barras, pointedly. "Go on--go on," said Jerce, impatiently.