chello
is indeed a good lady.'

'Did you--do you know--are you aware that Miss Whichello buried him,
sir?' stammered the inspector, considerably astonished.

'I have just come from her house,' replied Cargrim, answering the
question in the affirmative by implication.

'Well, she asked me not to tell anyone, sir; but as she told you, I
s'pose I can say as she buried that corpse with a good deal of expense.'

'It is not to be wondered at, seeing that she took an interest in the
wretched creature,' said Cargrim, delicately feeling his way. 'I trust
that the sight of his body in the dead-house didn't shock her nerves.'

'Did she tell you she visited the dead-house?' asked Tinkler, his eyes
growing larger at the extent of the chaplain's information.

'Of course she did,' replied Cargrim, and this was truer than most of
his remarks.

Tinkler brought down a heavy fist with a bang on his desk. 'Then I'm
blest, Mr Cargrim, sir, if I can understand what she meant by asking me
to hold my tongue.'

'Ah, Mr Inspector, the good lady is one of those rare spirits who "do
good by stealth and blush to find it fame."'

'Seems a kind of silly to go on like that, sir!'

'We are not all rare spirits, Tinkler.'

'I don't know what the world would be if we were, Mr Cargrim, sir. But
Miss Whichello seemed so anxious that I should hold my tongue about the
visit and the burial that I can't make out why she talked about them to
you or to anybody.'

'I cannot myself fathom her reason for such unnecessary secrecy, Mr
Inspector; unless it is that she wishes the murderer to be discovered.'

'Well, she can't spot him,' said Tinkler, emphatically, 'for all she
knows about Jentham is thirty years old.'

Cargrim could scarcely suppress a start at this unexpected information.
So Miss Whichello did know something about the dead man after all; and
doubtless her connection with Jentham had to do with the secret of the
bishop. Cargrim felt that he was on the eve of an important discovery;
for Tinkler, thinking that Miss Whichello had made a confidant of the
chaplain, babbled on innocently, without guessing that his attentive
listener was making a base use of him. The shrug of the shoulders with
which Cargrim commented on his last remark made Tinkler talk further.

'Besides!' said he, expansively, 'what does Miss Whichello know? Only
that the man was a violinist thirty years ago, and that he called
himself Amaru. Those details don't throw any