"None," he confessed. "It looks, though, as if my uncle had in his possession something belonging to the writer, doesn't it? Don't you think it might have something to do with the murder?"
"I don't see why the murderer should send a threatening letter after the deed was done," said the detective. "Still less could he have posted it in Paris on the very day the crime was committed."
"No, that's true enough," Mark admitted reluctantly.
"Has any suspicious looking person been seen about this place, this summer? Any foreigner, for instance?" asked the detective.
"No; no," Mark replied. "I should have heard of it for certain if there had been. It would have been an event, down here."
Gimblet dropped the subject.
"If I may," he said. "I will keep this. It may lead to something," he added, tucking the letter away in an inside pocket. "That's all, I suppose?"
Mark was silent for a minute. He seemed to be thinking.
"That's all I know about the murder," he said at last, "but there are plenty of complications apart from that. I suppose Miss Byrne told you that my uncle electrified us all by saying she was his daughter, only an hour or so before he died?"
Gimblet nodded. "Yes," he said, "she told me."