ial out
of the estate, when he'd have vanished. I tell you my father accepted
that story--why? Because he knew that if Miss Greyle there came into the
estate, she and her mother would have bundled Peter Chatfield out of his
stewardship quick."

"Proceed, if you please," said Sir Cresswell. "There are other details
about which I am anxious to hear."

"Meaning about your own brother," remarked Addie. "I'm coming to that.
Well, on his story and on his production of those papers--birth
certificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on--everybody
accepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly till
that Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven. And
now, Sir Cresswell, I'll tell you the plain and absolute truth about
your brother's death! It's the absolute truth, mind--nobody knows it
better than I do. On that Sunday I was at Scarhaven. I wanted to speak
privately to Martin. I arranged to meet him in the grounds of the Keep
during the afternoon. I did meet him there. We hadn't been talking many
minutes when Bassett Oliver came in through the door in the wall, which
one of us had carelessly left open. He didn't see us. But we saw him. And
we were afraid! Why? Because Bassett Oliver knew both of us. He'd met
Martin several times, in London and in New York--and, of course, he knew
that Martin was no more Marston Greyle than he himself was. Well!--we
both shrank behind some shrubs that we were standing amongst, and we gave
each other one look, and Martin went white as death. But Bassett Oliver
went on across the lawn, never seeing us, and he entered the turret tower
and went up. Martin just said to me 'If Bassett Oliver sees me, there's
an end to all this--what's to be done?' But before I could speak or
think, we saw Bassett at the top of the tower, making his way round the
inside parapet. And suddenly--he disappeared!"

Addie's voice had become low and grave during the last few minutes and
she kept her eyes on the table at the end. But she looked up readily
enough when Sir Cresswell seized her arm and rapped out a question almost
in her ear.

"Is that the truth--the real truth?"

"It's the absolute truth!" she answered, regarding him steadily. "I'm
not altogether a good sort, nor a very bad sort, but I'm telling you the
real truth in that. It was a sheer accident--he stepped off the parapet
and fell. Martin went into the base of the tower and came back saying he
was d