discovery would lead to detection. And therefore he put him out of the way. He might accompany him to the top of the tower and fling him down. It's possible. Do you follow me?"
"Precisely," replied Petherton. "I, too, incline to that notion, though I've worked it out in a different fashion. My reconstruction of what took place at Scarhaven Keep is as follows—I think that Bassett Oliver met the Squire—we'll call this man that for the sake of clearness—when he entered the ruins. He probably introduced himself and mentioned that he had met a Marston Greyle in America. Then the Squire saw the probabilities of detection—and what subsequently took place was most likely what you suggest. It may have been that the Squire recognized Bassett Oliver, and knew that he'd met Marston Greyle; it may have been that he didn't know him and didn't know anything until Bassett Oliver enlightened him. But—either way—I firmly believe that Bassett Oliver came to his death by violence—that he was murdered. So—there's the case in a nutshell! Murdered—to keep his tongue still."
"What's to be done, then?" asked Sir Cresswell as Petherton tapped the cablegram.
"The first thing," he answered, "is to make use of this. We now know that the real Marston Greyle—who certainly did live in St. Louis, where his father had settled—left New York for England to take up his inheritance, on September 28th, 1912, and booked a passage to Falmouth. He would land at Falmouth from the Araconda about October 5th. Probably
