tificates, marriage certificates, and a complete memorandum of a certain case, evidently written out with great care by Ashton himself. And of course, knowing what I do now, it's very clear to me how Ashton's murder came about. Cortelyon knew that if Ashton was out of the way, and he himself in possession of the papers, he could use some, suppress others, and foist off an accomplice of his own as claimant to a title which, from what I've seen, appears without doubt to belong to—"
Drillford was again glancing at Miss Wickham, but Viner contrived to stop any further revelations and got to his feet.
"Extraordinary!" he said. "But—my aunt? Where is she?"
"She remained here until we'd safely caged the birds," answered Drillford. "Then she said she'd go home. And I suppose you'll find her there."
Viner took his companion away from the police-station in silence. But at the end of the street Miss Wickham looked back.
"Are those three people really locked up—in cells—close by where we were sitting with the inspector?" she asked.
"Just so," answered Viner.
"And will they all be hanged?" she whispered.
"I sincerely hope one will!" exclaimed Viner.
"What," she inquired, "did the inspector mean about the papers found on Dr. Cortelyon? I have some uneasy feeling that—"
"I think you'd better wait," said Viner. "There'll have to be some queer explanations. We must let Mr. Pawle and Mr. Carless know of what's happened
