that fatal
night had "spotted" any suspicious persons. It was generally assumed,
from the peculiar circumstances of the crime, that more than one person
was inculpated, and these had come out of the night, had committed the
cruel deed, and then had vanished into the night, leaving no trace
behind. The appearance of the fellow whom Mr. Pash called the nautical
gentleman certainly was strange, and led many people to believe that
robbery was the motive for the commission of the crime. "This man, who
was powerful and could easily have overpowered a little creature like
Norman, came to rob," said these wiseacres. "Finding that the jewels
were gone, and probably from a memorandum finding that they were in the
possession of the lawyer, he attempted the next morning to get them--"
and so on. But against this was placed by other people the cruel
circumstances of the crime. No mere robbery would justify the brooch
being used to pin the dead man's lips together. Then, again, the man
being strangled before his daughter's eyes was a refinement of cruelty
which removed the case from a mere desire on the part of the murdered to
get money. Finally, one man, as the police thought, could not have
carried out the abominable details alone.

So after questions had been asked and evidence obtained, and details
shifted, and theories raised, and pros and cons discussed, the jury was
obliged to bring in the verdict predicted by Mr. Hurd. "Wilful murder
against some person or persons unknown," said the jury, and everyone
agreed that this was the only conclusion that could be arrived at.

Of course the papers took up the matter and asked what the police were
doing to permit so brutal a murder to take place in a crowded
neighborhood and in the metropolis of the world. "What was civilisation
coming to and--" etc., etc. All the same the public was satisfied that
the police and jury had done their duty. So the inquest was held, the
verdict was given, and then the remains of Aaron Norman were committed
to the grave; and from the journals everyone knew that the daughter left
behind was a great heiress. "A million of money," said the Press, and
lied as usual.

CHAPTER IX

CASTLES IN THE AIR

So Aaron Norman, the second-hand bookseller of Gwynne Street, was dead
and buried, and, it may be said, forgotten. Sylvia and those connected
with her remembered the old man and his unhappy end, but the public
managed to forget all about the matter in