"Oh, confound Mrs. Gilroy," said Gore, impatiently. "I want to know about this check. This double who presented it must be the fellow who masqueraded in the kitchen."
"And perhaps—who knows?—may have murdered Sir Simon."
"It's not unlikely. Mrs. Gilroy said she admitted someone like me—or, as she thought, me—about ten, and——"
"We'll come to that presently. I examined Jane Riordan, who was courted by this fellow apparently to get into the house. She described you exactly, but when I showed her your likeness she noticed that the mole on your chin was absent from the man who met her."
Bernard involuntarily put up his hand to touch the mole, which was rather conspicuous. "The man had not this mark?" he asked.
"No. So the mole you used to curse at school, Bernard, may be the means of saving your life. Also I got a letter from the girl in which this fellow makes an appointment. Here it is."
Gore examined the letter thrown to him by Durham. "It's like my writing, but it isn't," he said, staring. "In Heaven's name, Mark, what does it all mean?"
"Conspiracy on the part of——"
"Julius Beryl," said Gore, breathlessly.
"I am not prepared to say that; but certainly on the part of Mrs. Gilroy. While I was wondering who this double who copied even your handwriting and called himself by your name could be, Mrs. Gilroy called on the errand I told you of."