which they think may be
forced upon them. I never saw a man in a greater fright than that I saw
Elphick in last night. And it's evident that Cardlestone shares in that
fright, or they wouldn't have gone off in this way together."

"Do you think they know anything of the actual murder?"

Spargo shook his head.

"I don't know. Probably. They know something. And--look here!"

Spargo put his hand in his breast pocket and drew something out which
he handed to Breton, who gazed at it curiously.

"What's this?" he demanded. "Stamps?"

"That, from the description of Criedir, the stamp-dealer, is a sheet of
those rare Australian stamps which Maitland had on him--carried on him.
I picked it up just now in Cardlestone's room, when you were looking
into his bedroom."

"But that, after all, proves nothing. Those mayn't be the identical
stamps. And whether they are or not----" "What are the probabilities?"
interrupted Spargo sharply. "I believe that those are the stamps which
Maitland--your father!--had on him, and I want to know how they came to
be in Cardlestone's rooms. And I will know."

Breton handed the stamps back.

"But the general thing, Spargo?" he said. "If they didn't murder--I
can't realize the thing yet!--my father----"

"If they didn't murder your father, they know who did!" exclaimed
Spargo. "Now, then, it's time for more action. Let Elphick and
Cardlestone alone for the moment--they'll be tracked easily enough. I
want to tackle something else for the moment. How do you get an
authority from the Government to open a grave?"

"Order from the Home Secretary, which will have to be obtained by
showing the very strongest reasons why it should be made."

"Good! We'll give the reasons. I want to have a grave opened."

"A grave opened! Whose grave?"

"The grave of the man Chamberlayne at Market Milcaster," replied
Spargo.

Breton started.

"His? In Heaven's name, why?" he demanded.

Spargo laughed as he got up.

"Because I believe it's empty," he answered. "Because I believe that
Chamberlayne is alive, and that his other name is--Cardlestone!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE PENITENT WINDOW-CLEANER

That afternoon Spargo had another of his momentous interviews with his
proprietor and his editor. The first result was that all three drove to
the offices of the legal gentleman who catered for the _Watchman_ when
it wanted any law, and that things were put in shape for an immediate
application to the