“Much. Baldwin Grison was murdered, as I truly believe, so that his assassin might obtain it. Now listen, dear, and be sure you don’t repeat what I say to your uncle.”
“No, I won’t. Though I don’t see why you want to keep things secret from him. Go on. What is it?”
Fuller quickly and concisely told her all that he had learned from Dick Latimer and Inspector Moon relative to the Rotherhithe murder, and laid great stress on the fact that Jotty the street-arab had seen the peacock of jewels. Marie listened with open mouth.
“But you can’t be sure that the poor man was murdered because of the peacock,” she said when he ended. “Besides, how could he have it?”
“Oh, that last is easy. Grison was your uncle’s secretary and may have taken the peacock out of revenge, knowing that Mr. Sorley was fond of jewels. On the other hand, Grison may have read the very same manuscript about which you have been telling me and might have tried to learn the secret.”
“Then he could not have,” cried the girl positively, “else he would not have remained in that horrid slum. Who has the peacock now?”
“The assassin.”
“Who is he?”
“No one knows, and no one can find out.”
“But are you sure Mr. Grison was murdered because of the peacock?” asked Marie again, and doubtfully.