"Well, my conclusions are drawn from several very startling facts—facts which, of course, have never leaked out to the public. But before I reveal them to you I'd like to hear what opinion you've formed yourself."
"I'm convinced that Harry Bellairs met with foul play, and I'm equally certain that the man Barker lied in his depositions before the coroner. He knows the whole story, and has been paid to keep a still tongue."
"There I entirely agree with you," Trendall declared quickly; while at that moment the secretary returned with a slip of paper attached to the query which his chief had written. "Ah!" he exclaimed, glancing at the paper, "I see that the fellow Barker, who was a chauffeur before he entered Harry's service, has set up a motor-car business in Southampton."
"You believe him to have been an accessory, eh?"
"Yes, a dupe in the hands of a clever woman."
"Of what woman?" asked Walter, holding his breath.
"As you know, Harry was secretary to your friend Elcombe. Well, I happen to know that his pretty stepdaughter, Enid Orlebar, was over head and ears in love with him. My daughter Ethel and she are friends, and she confided this fact to Ethel only a month before the tragedy."
"Then you actually suggest that a—a certain woman murdered him?" gasped Fetherston.
"Well—there is no actual proof—only strong suspicion!"
Walter Fetherston held his breath. Did the suspicions of this man, from whom no secret was safe, run in the same direction as his own?