his face in
death's very moment. And that done, I ran up to Maisie again, bidding her
be patient awhile, and we talked quietly a bit until Chisholm called me
down to look at the boxes. There were four of them--stout, new-made
wooden cases, clamped with iron at the corners, and securely screwed
down; and when the policemen invited me to feel the weight, I was put in
mind, in a lesser degree, of Gilverthwaite's oak-chest.

"What do you think's like to be in there, now, Mr. Hugh?" asked Chisholm.
"Do you know what I think? There's various heavy metals in the
world--aye, and isn't gold one of the heaviest?--it'll not be lead that's
in here! And look you at that!"

He pointed to some neatly addressed labels tacked strongly to each
lid--the writing done in firm, bold, print-like characters:

_John Harrison, passenger, by S.S. Aerolite.
Newcastle to Hamburg_.

I was looking from one label to the other and finding them all alike,
when we heard voices at the foot of the stair, and from out of them came
Superintendent Murray's, demanding loudly who was above.

CHAPTER XXXVI

GOLD

There was quite a company of men came up the stair with Murray, crowding,
all of them, into the room, with eyes full of astonishment at what they
saw: Mr. Lindsey and Mr. Gavin Smeaton, and a policeman or two, and--what
was of more interest to me--a couple of strangers. But looking at these
more closely, I saw that I had seen one of them before--an elderly man,
whom I recognized as having been present in court when Carter was brought
up before the magistrates; a quiet, noticing sort of man whom I
remembered as appearing to take great and intelligent interest in the
proceedings. And he and the other man now with him seemed to take just as
keen an interest in what Chisholm and I had to tell; but while Murray was
full of questions to both of us, they asked none. Only--during that
questioning--the man whom I had never seen before quietly lifted the
hanging which I had spread over Hollins's dead body, and took a searching
look at his face.

Mr. Lindsey drew me aside and pointed at the elderly man whom I
remembered seeing in the police court.

"You see yon gentleman?" he whispered. "That's a Mr. Elphinstone,
that was formerly steward to old Sir Alexander Carstairs. He's
retired--a good many years, now, and lives the other side of Alnwick,
in a place of his own. But this affair's fetched him into the light
again--to some purpose!"

"I saw