"Very remarkable indeed!" said Gilbert, drily.
"Don't you believe me?" inquired the wreck.
"I do not see the bearing of what you have told us on the disappearance of Mr. Thornton. Of course, what you saw was very strange, and should be communicated to the authorities of the Inn, but I can see no connection between the man who came out of the gate and Mr. Thornton. Do you think there was?"
"I told you at the beginning that what I had to communicate might not be of much use. I thought, however, it might perhaps fit in with something you knew, or that it might give you a hint," said the wreck, in a tone of dejection.
"We shall not forget what you have told us," said Gilbert, as the wreck prepared to leave the room. "You should report what you saw to the authorities of Lincoln's Inn, who will, no doubt, reward you for your trouble."
Gilbert followed him to the door, and put some silver into his hand as he went out. Then Gilbert closed the door, and sat down beside his father.
"It looks," said he, "as if there were some uncommonly queer goings-on in this old Inn."
But his father scarcely noticed what he said. Francis Eversleigh's gaze was fastened on the paper lying before him on his table—the paper which was partly printed, partly written on.
It was an official certificate from the Syndic of Camajore in Italy, duly signed and sealed, of the death of Cooper Silwood.