"But don't you see, Gerald," argued Murray, in his quietly earnest way, "that the very fact of our having found this man constitutes the first link in the chain? All the proofs in the world would have availed us nothing had we not been able to find him. But now that we have got the first link complete, you may depend upon it that the forging of the second will follow in due course."
He spoke with an air of such thorough conviction, that for a moment or two Gerald hardly knew how to answer him.
"I am certainly at a nonplus," he said at last. "I was never more in the dark in my life. Have you any objection to my consulting Byrne?"
"No objection in the world. Consult anybody and everybody, as may seem best to you."
"Should I find it necessary to do so, have I your permission to tell him everything?"
"You have: my full permission."
"Mind you, I don't build any hopes on my interview with Byrne. I don't see how he can possibly help us; but still I will consult him."
"And out of that consultation the forging of the second link will be accomplished," said Murray. Again Gerald shook his head. Slightly exasperating to him was Murray's air of thorough conviction, unbacked as it was by the least fragment of proof, or even the vaguest suggestions as to either how or where such proof might be forthcoming.
Two days later, having an afternoon to spare, Gerald chartered a hansom for Amelia Terrace, Battersea, and picked up Ambrose Murray by the way. He had seen enough of Byrne to make him believe that he was a man who might be thoroughly trusted, and he had made up his mind to lay the case before him in its entirety. He left the cab with his companion in it at the corner of the terrace, and three minutes later he was closeted with Mr. Byrne.
That gentleman was smoking his long-stemmed pipe with the china bowl. He squeezed Gerald's outstretched hand, and greeted him with one of his expansive smiles, which came and went as suddenly as though produced by a clock-work movement inside his head.