"He was a bad lot all through--a horse-thief and I don't know what else in the way of crime. He made South Africa too hot for him, and came home steerage in the _Dunoon Castle_. I saw him at times, as I knew a heap about him, and he thieved from a pal of mine up Bulawayo way. He seemed to suspect Strode of yanking diamonds out of the country." "Did Strode tell you he possessed diamonds?" "No. He said he'd made money to the extent of forty thousand pounds." "Did he carry the money with him?" Parkins shook his head. "I can't say. I should think he'd have letters of credit. He'd a pocket-book he was always dipping into, and talked of his money a lot." "A blue pocket-book with a crest?" "That's so. Do you know it?" "No. But that pocket-book was stolen from the body. At least it was not found, so it must have been stolen." "Oh, and I guess Strode was murdered for the sake of the pocket-book. But see here," said Horace shrewdly, "I've told you a heap. Now, you cut along and reel out a yarn to me." The other man needed no second invitation. He laid aside his pipe and told the story of the crime, suppressing only the doings of his father. Horace listened and nodded at intervals. "I don't see clear after all," he said when Allen ended, "sure you've told me everything?" The young man looked uneasy. "I've told you what I could." Parkins rose and stretched out his hand. "What you've told me will never be repeated. Good-bye." "What for?" asked Allen, also rising. "Because you won't trust me. I can't straighten out this business, unless you do." "The other thing I might tell isn't my own." "No go. If it concerns the murder it must be told. I don't work half knowledge with any one. You can trust me." Allen hesitated. He wanted to tell all, for he felt sure that Parkins would help him. But then it seemed terrible to reveal his father's shame to a stranger. What was he to do? "See here, I'll tell--you everything, suppressing names." "Won't do," said the inflexible Parkins; "good-bye." "Will you give me a few hours to think over the matter?" "No. If I'm not to be trusted now, I'm not to be trusted at all." The young man bit his fingers. He couldn't let Parkins go, for he knew about Strode and Red Jerry, and might aid the case a lot. It was imperative that the truth should be discovered, else it might be that his father would be put to open shame. Better, Allen thought, to tell Parkins and get his aid, than risk the arrest of his father and see the whole story in the papers. "I'll tell all," he said. "Good man," growled Parkins, his brow clearing. When in possession of all the facts, Parkins thought for a moment and delivered his opinion: "Strode I take it was followed to the Red Deeps by Jerry Train, and Jerry shot him and stole the pocket-book." "But the wooden hand?"