"What ought she to do, sir?" asked Wedgwood.
The old lawyer took another pinch of snuff.
"Obvious!" he answered with a grunt. "Put her case in the hands of a respectable firm of solicitors!"
Wedgwood and the superintendent presently went away. Outside, the superintendent laughed.
"Clever, shrewd old chap, isn't he?" he said admiringly. "Do you know what they call him hereabouts? They call him the Cyclopædia! Knows everything, what?"
"He's thrown a good deal of light on my business!" remarked Wedgwood. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Between you and me, he went on, "it's my opinion now that John Wraypoole was murdered because of his knowledge of this affair! He'd unearthed all the facts and had them set out in that manuscript labelled Mortover that I told you of. What do you think?"
"Precisely what I should think—from what you've told me," agreed the superintendent.
"Well—the thing now, I suppose is who did it?"
"That," said Wedgwood, "will take a lot of finding out!"
Still, he thought, as he turned into his hotel
