"Yes," answered Calton; "the three executors must read it, and then—we will burn it."
"That will be the better way," answered Brian, gloomily.
"Frettlby is dead, and the law can do nothing in the matter, so it would be best to avoid the scandal of publicity. But why tell Chinston?"
"We must," said Calton, decidedly. "He will be sure to gather the truth from Madge's ravings, and may as well know all. He is quite safe, and will be silent as the grave. But I am more sorry to tell Kilsip."
"The detective! Good God, Calton, surely you will not do so!"
"I must," replied the barrister, quietly. "Kilsip is firmly persuaded that Moreland committed the crime, and I have the same dread of his pertinacity as you had of mine. He may find out all."
"What must be, must be," said Fitzgerald, clenching his hands. "But I hope no one else will find out this miserable story. There's Moreland, for instance."
"Ah! true," said Calton, thoughtfully. "He called and saw Frettlby the other night, you say?"
"Yes. I wonder what for."
"There is only one answer," said the barrister, slowly. "He must have seen Frettlby following Whyte when he left the hotel, and wanted hush-money."
"I wonder if he got it," observed Fitzgerald.
"Oh, I'll soon find that out," answered Calton, opening the drawer again, and taking out the dead man's cheque-book. "Let me see what cheques have been drawn lately."
Most of the blocks were filled up with small amounts, and one or two for a hundred or so. Calton could find no large sum such as Moreland would have demanded, when, at the very end of the book, he found a cheque torn off, leaving the block-slip quite blank.
"There you are," he said, triumphantly holding out the book to Fitzgerald. "He wasn't such a fool as to write in the amount on the block, but tore the cheque out, and wrote in the sum required."
"And what's to be done about it?"
"Let him keep it, of course," answered Calton, shrugging his shoulders. "It's the only way to secure his silence."
