daughter, he must have given Ashton papers to prove his and her identity—must! Where are they?"
"Do you know what I think?" said Viner. "I think—if I'm to put it in plain language—that Ashton carried those papers on him, and that he was murdered for the possession of them!"
Mr. Pawle nodded, and put the packet of letters in his pocket.
"I shouldn't be surprised," he answered. "It's a very probable theory, my boy. But it presupposes one thing, and makes one horribly suspicious of another."
"Yes?" inquired Viner.
"It presupposes that Ashton let somebody into the secret," replied Mr. Pawle, "and it makes one suspect that the person to whom he did reveal it had such personal interest in suppressing it that he went to the length of murdering Ashton before Ashton could tell it to any one else. How does that strike you, Viner?"
"It's this—and not the diamond!" declared Viner doggedly. "I've a sort of absolute intuition that I'm right."
"I think so too," assented the old lawyer, dryly. "The fifty-thousand-pound diamond is a side-mine. Very well, now we know a lot, you and I. And, we're going to solve matters. And we're not going to say a word to this young lady, at present—that's settled. But I want to ask her some questions—come along."
He led the way across the hall to the dining-room where a reminder of Ashton's death met his and
