“No, I do not. However her death came to her, it was suddenly, for she died, you know, with a smile on her lips. I have examined the locality well, and in my opinion Lady Alden sat reading, never thinking of coming harm, and the murderer stole up behind her and did his deadly work before she ever knew that any one was near. There was no horror of fright for her.”
“You heard what was said at the time of the inquest about the weapon?”
“Yes; that is the clue. If ever the secret comes to light we shall hear of that weapon again.”
“Then do you intend to give up the search?” asked Kenelm.
“I think so—if there was the least chance of success I should go on with it—as it is, it is hopeless. I am simply living here in idleness, taking Sir Ronald’s money and doing nothing for it. I have other and more important work in hand.”
“Well,” said Mr. Eyrle, “if all the world gives it up I never shall. What have you done toward it?”
“I have mastered every detail of the lady’s life. I know all her friends. I have visited wherever she visited. I have exerted all the capability and energy that I am possessed of, yet I have not discovered one single circumstance that throws the least light on her death.”
So Mr. Eyrle was forced to see the cleverest detective in England leave the place without having been able to give the least assistance.
“I will unravel it,” he said; “even were the mystery twenty times as great. I will fathom it. But first I will devote myself to Ronald.”
It was August when they left Aldenmere. Sir Ronald would not go abroad.