He was glad that she had not resented his question, and the suggestions that arose from it. It emboldened him to proceed.
“As I have said, it is our duty to leave no stone unturned, to look even in unlikely places for any fresh evidence which might afford a clue. There must be a mass of papers in this house I think you ought to go through them, darling.”
She gave a little cry. “Oh!” she said in a tearful voice. “It seems almost like sacrilege.”
“If such a search were conducted by other hands, it might be so, but assuredly not in your case.”
She thought a little, and her common-sense came to her aid.
“You are quite right, Austin, as you always are. It will be a terrible task, but, as you say, we must leave no stone unturned. I will begin to-morrow, and keep on till I have finished.”
He called late next day, and found that she had got about half-way through the various piles. But so far she had found nothing of importance.
“I came across a few diaries. He seems to have kept them for the best part of five years, and then dropped the practice. They contain records of appointments, whom he met, and political events, but there’s not a single entry that throws any light upon this affair.”
“I wonder if Farloe has any of his papers, or, more likely still, has abstracted any?” said Wingate in a musing voice.
Sheila shuddered at the name. “No wonder that I always hated him,” she cried vehemently. “Shall we ever learn the part he played in this mystery?”