"And what do you think?" asked Fanks, with a keen glance.
"I don't want to build up my life on the ruins of another man's; it is a bad foundation. I know you believe that I wish to get my cousin into trouble, but you are wrong. I would help Louis to escape if I could."
"There may be no necessity for that; we have proved nothing against him as yet. I hardly think that a man who has committed a crime would put down money to hunt out himself, and thereby lose the benefit he gained by his wickedness. No, no, Garth, I do not believe Sir Louis is such a guilty fool. However, I shall give my opinion when I see him and question Mrs. Jerusalem."
"Will you tell my cousin that I am here?"
"Certainly. There is nothing to be gained by concealment. You only place your honour in the hands of that Jerusalem creature, and make yourself her accomplice. However, I am ready to bet you that Sir Louis knows you are here through Mrs. Prisom."
Garth made no reply, but stating that he was weary, went off to bed. The detective, left alone, thought over what he had been told, and found himself unable to come to any conclusion. He did not like the way in which Garth was acting, but, all the same, he believed that the lawyer had no ill intentions towards his cousin, despite Crate's opinion to the contrary. The young man laughed as he thought how he had picked up the trail of Garth when it had been lost by the astute Crate. "I am afraid that Crate will never make a success of the detective business," thought Fanks, lighting his pipe. "But I don't agree with him about Garth; and I don't agree with Garth about Sir Louis. Certainly, it is strange that Sir Louis should have feigned illness, and shielded Binjoy, and then have gone up to town on that night. What the deuce were he and his medical friend doing there? Dr. Turnor knows; I believe that Sir Louis was alone with Binjoy in the Great Auk Street house. It is odd, to say the least of it. I wonder if that negro was the actual Caesar, or Binjoy or Sir Louis in disguise. At all events, he wasn't Hersham, for that young man has exonerated himself clearly enough. H'm. I'll reserve my decision as to Mrs. Jerusalem's story till I see Sir Louis. Perhaps the secret of the crime is to be found at Mere Hall, after all. No, no, no!" said Fanks, getting on his feet with an emphatic stamp. "The secret is connected with that tattooed cross. I wonder who can tell us about it."
At, this moment, as if in answer to his query, the door opened, and Mrs. Prisom came in to clear away the dinner things. As a rule, she left this duty to the parlour maid, but as Garth, an offshoot of the great Fellenger family, was dining under her roof, she would let no one but herself attend to him. She looked surprised when she saw that Garth was not in the room. At once Fanks explained the absence of his friend.
"Mr. Garth has retired to bed," he said, "as he is very tired. I shall go myself soon, as your country air makes me sleepy, but at present I should like to have a chat with you, Mrs. Prisom."
Mrs. Prisom smiled in an expansive manner, and expressed the honour she felt at such a request, adding that she dearly loved a chat.
"All the better," thought Fanks, as she cleared away the dishes. "You will be the more likely to tell me what I want to know."