"Because the person who restored them may inadvertently hint at the restitution; and if nothing is said about it openly, he will thus condemn himself."
"Perhaps so Torry; but there is one person I should like to mention the matter to."
"Who is that?"
"Donna Maria. Like yourself, I fancy she knows something, and is shielding someone. Should I trace the person who changed these notes, he may turn out to be the individual she is shielding. If I tell her the name, and assure her that restitution has been made, she may tell all she knows."
Torry nodded his head approvingly. "There is something in that," said he. "I give you leave to make a confidant of Donna Maria; but let me tell you, sir, if you succeed in getting a confession out of her, you will be the cleverest man in the world."
"I'll take my chance of that!" replied Darrel, and they parted.
For the next week Torry was engaged in advertising for the tramp who had found the body of Julia Brawn. It struck him that Julia might have worn some jewellery--a brooch, a ring, or a locket--of which the tramp had probably robbed her. Could he see such jewellery, he might find some trace of her supposed lover; since lovers usually make such gifts to those they adore. Of course, the idea was purely theoretical, and it might probably turn out to be worth nothing. Still, Torry was like a drowning man clutching at a straw. The advertising for the lost tramp was the straw he grasped at.
While thus engaged, Darrel made his appearance in a state of great excitement, and announced that he had been successful. In a suburban bank he had discovered traces of two of the original notes which had been exchanged for two others which bore the numbers of those restored.
"Evidently," he said, "the man changed them before the date of the murder, and substituted the second lot so that they could not be traced by Manuel's list."
"That is a truism," cried Torry impatiently.