Rathbury still stared at his caller.
“Go on!” he said. “Tell all about it, Spargo. Let’s hear every detail. I’ll tell you all I know after. But what I know’s nothing to that.”
Spargo told him the whole story of his adventures at Market Milcaster, and the detective listened with rapt attention.
“Yes,” he said at the end. “Yes—I don’t think there’s much doubt about that. Well, that clears up a lot, doesn’t it?”
Spargo yawned.
“Yes, a whole slate full is wiped off there,” he said. “I haven’t so much interest in Marbury, or Maitland now. My interest is all in Aylmore.”
Rathbury nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “The thing to find out is—who is Aylmore, or who was he, twenty years ago?”
“Your people haven’t found anything out, then?” asked Spargo.
“Nothing beyond the irreproachable history of Mr. Aylmore since he returned to this country, a very rich man, some ten years since,” answered Rathbury, smiling. “They’ve no previous dates to go on. What are you going to do next, Spargo?”