"He did," replied Vickers, "and though Chatfield is an unmitigated old scoundrel, I believe him."
"You do!" exclaimed Gilling, who was listening eagerly. "Oh, come!"
"I do—as a professional man," answered Vickers, stoutly, and with an appealing glance at his brother solicitor. "Mr. Petherton will tell you that we lawyers have a curious gift of intuition. With all Chatfield's badness, I do really believe that the old fellow does not know whether the man we'll call the Squire is Marston Greyle or not! He's doubtful—he's puzzled—but he doesn't know."
"Odd!" murmured Sir Cresswell, after a minute's silence. "Odd! Very, very odd! That shows that there's still some extraordinary mystery about this which we haven't even guessed at. Well, now, another question—you got the idea that some one else was aboard the yacht?"
"Some one other than Andrius—in authority—yes!" answered Vickers. "We certainly thought that."
"Did you think it was the man we know as the Squire?" asked Sir
Cresswell.
"We had a notion that he might be there," replied Vickers, with a glance at Copplestone. "Especially after what happened to Chatfield. Of course, we never saw him, or heard his voice, or saw a sign of him. Still, we fancied—"
Sir Cresswell rose from his chair and motioned to Petherton.
"Well," he said, "I think you and I, Petherton, had better complete our toilets, and then give a look in at the authorities here and find out if anything has been received by wireless or from the coastguard stations about the yacht. In the meantime," he added, turning to Vickers and Copplestone, "Gilling can tell you what's been going on in your absence—you'll learn from it that our impression is that the Squire, as we call him, was on the Pike with you."
The two elder men went away, and Copplestone turned to Gilling.