"I doubt that," replied Larcher coolly. "You suspect Hilliston; you suspect Jeringham; you suspect Mona Bantry. Why, in your last letter you hinted at the guilt of Denis, simply because a drunken lunatic told you a wild story; yet, so far as I can see, you have not a morsel of evidence against any one of the four."
"You are wrong," said Tait, in an argumentative manner. "The misfortune is that there is too much evidence against them all. I could furnish you with a case against each which—so far as circumstantial evidence is concerned—would convince you of their individual guilt."
"Theory, Tait, theory!"
"We'll prove that soon, my boy," said Tait, with exasperating coolness, "if you back out of the case, I at least am determined to see it through. I suppose you are bent on marrying the young lady."
"If she'll have me—yes."
"Humph! There's another obstacle which you have overlooked. The consent of her father—our mysterious friend, Paynton."
"I have not overlooked the obstacle. I will obtain his consent from his own lips."
"And how do you intend to see him?"
"Through the agency of Mr. Hilliston," replied Larcher calmly. "He has agreed to introduce me to Paynton to-morrow. Here is his letter."
The little man fairly bounded from his chair, and he took the letter from his friend's hand with an air of bewilderment. After mastering the contents he returned it with a satisfied nod.