ing to perpetual quarrelling with their
father, he gave them both a good lot of money and they went their
several ways. And after that, neither ever came back that I heard of, nor
did I ever come across either, except on one occasion--to which I'll
refer in due course. In time, as I've just said, I retired; in time, too,
Sir Alexander died, and I heard that, Mr. Michael being dead in the West
Indies, Sir Gilbert had come into the title and estates. I did think,
once or twice, of coming over to see him; but the older a man gets, the
fonder he is of his own fireside--and I didn't come here, nor did I ever
hear much of him; he certainly made no attempt to see me. And so we come
to the beginning of what we'll call the present crisis. That beginning
came with the man who turned up in Berwick this spring."

"You mean Gilverthwaite?" asked Mr. Lindsey.

"Aye--but I didn't know him by that name!" assented Mr. Elphinstone, with
a sly smile. "I didn't know him by any name. What I know is this. It must
have been about a week--certainly not more--before Gilverthwaite's death
that he--I'm sure of his identity, because of his description--called on
me at my house, and with a good deal of hinting and such-like told me
that he was a private inquiry agent, and could I tell him something about
the late Michael Carstairs?--and that, it turned out, was: Did I know if
Michael was married before he left England, and if so, where, and to
whom? Of course, I knew nothing about it, and as the man wouldn't give me
the least information I packed him off pretty sharply. And the next thing
I heard was of the murder of John Phillips. I didn't connect that with
the visit of the mysterious man at first; but of course I read the
account of the inquest, and Mr. Ridley's evidence, and then I began to
see there was some strange business going on, though I couldn't even
guess at what it could be. And I did nothing, and said nothing--there
seemed nothing, then, that I could do or say, though I meant to come
forward later--until I saw the affair of Crone in the newspapers, and I
knew then that there was more in the matter than was on the surface. So,
when I learnt that a man named Carter had been arrested on the charge of
murdering Crone, I came to Berwick, and went to the court to hear what
was said when Carter was put before the magistrates. I got a quiet seat
in the court--and maybe you didn't see me."

"I did!" I exclaimed. "I remember you perfectly, Mr.