"Queer!" observed Gilling. "Decidedly queer! There may be some explanation, you know: I've known stranger things than that turn out to be perfectly straight and plain when they were gone into. But—putting all the facts together—I don't think there's much doubt that there's something considerably wrong in this case. I should like to repeat it to my principals—I must go up to town in any event this afternoon. Better let me have all those documents, Mr. Dennie—I'll give you a proper receipt for them. There's something very valuable in them, anyhow."
"What?" asked Copplestone.
"The address in St. Louis from which that Marston Greyle wrote to Bassett Oliver." replied Gilling. "We can communicate with that address—at once. We may learn something there. But," he went on, turning to Mrs. Greyle, "I want to learn something here—and now. I want to know where and under what circumstances the Squire came to Scarhaven. You were here then, of course, Mrs. Greyle? You can tell me?"
"He came very quietly," replied Mrs. Greyle. "Nobody in Scarhaven—unless it was Peter Chatfield—knew of his coming. In fact, nobody in these parts, at any rate—knew he was in England. The family solicitors in London may have known. But nothing was ever said or written to me, though my daughter, failing this man, is the next in succession."
"I do wish you'd leave all that out, mother!" exclaimed Audrey. "I don't like it."
