"No. Why go into the lion's den? Write and thank him and—decline."
"I have no excuse."
"Indeed! Then I will provide you with one. You are engaged to stay with me at Thorston for a month. By the end of that time you will know sufficient of Hilliston to decide for yourself as to the wisdom of accepting or declining his invitation."
"But if we go to Thorston we cannot prosecute our inquiries."
"Yes, we can. I tell you that book, which contains the story of your father's murder, also contains a description of Thorston. I recognize every scene."
"Well?"
"Well," repeated Tait sharply, "can't you see? The author of that book must either live at Thorston or have stayed a few months there. Else he could not have described the village so accurately. We must make inquiries about him there, and should we be fortunate enough to discover him, we must extract his secret."
"Upon my word, Claude, you are either stupid or cunning. Why, find out where he got his material from. That may put us on the right track. Now, write to Hilliston, and then go up to Hampstead and find out what Mrs. Bezel has to say."
"Won't you come, too?" said Claude, going to the writing desk.