by the next express. Let me have that cablegram."

"I'll go with you," said Copplestone. "I may be of some use--and I'm
interested. But," he paused and looked questioningly at the old
solicitor. "What about the other news we brought you?" he asked. "About
this sale of the estate, you know? If this man is an impostor--"

"Leave that to me," replied Petherton, with a shrewd glance at Sir
Cresswell. "I know the Greyle family solicitors--highly respectable
people--only a few doors away, in fact--and I'm going round to have a
quiet little chat with them in a few minutes. There will be no sale!
Leave me to deal with that matter--and if you young men are going to
Falmouth, off you go!"

It was late that night when Copplestone and Gilling arrived at this
far-off Cornish seaport, and nothing could be done until the following
morning. To Copplestone it seemed as if they were in for a difficult
task. Over twelve months had elapsed since the real Marston Greyle left
America for England; he might not have stayed in Falmouth, might not have
held any conversation with anybody there who would recollect him! how
were they going to trace him? But Gilling--now free of his clerical
attire and presenting himself as a smart young man of the professional
classes type--was quick to explain that system, accurate and definite
system, would expedite matters.

"We know the approximate date on which the _Araconda_ would touch here,"
he said as they breakfasted together. "As things go, it would be from
October 4th to 6th, according to the quickness of her run across the
Atlantic. Very well--if Marston Greyle stayed here, he'd have to stay at
some hotel. Accordingly, we visit all the Falmouth hotels and examine
their registers of that date--first week of October, 1912. If we find his
name--good! We can then go on to make inquiries. If we don't find any
trace of him, then we know it's all up--he probably went straight away by
train after landing. We'll begin with this hotel first."

There was no record of any Marston Greyle at that hotel, nor at the next
half-dozen at which they called. A visit to the shipping office of the
line to which the _Araconda_ belonged revealed the fact that she reached
Falmouth on October 5th at half-past ten in the evening, and that the
name of Marston Greyle was on the list of first-class passengers.
Gilling left the office in cheery mood.

"That simplifies matters," he said. "As the _Araconda_ reached here late
in t