"
"But what absurdity," cried Tatham, indignantly, as he rose. "As if the
man to profit by the plot would have left that codicil on the table!"
Marvell shrugged his shoulders.
"That too might be twisted. Why not a supremely clever stroke? Well, of
course the thing is absurd--but disagreeable--considering the
circumstances. The moral is--find the man! Good-day, Lord Tatham. I
understand you will have fifty men out by this evening, assisting the
police in their search?"
"At least," said Tatham, and departed.
Outside, after a moment's hesitation, he inquired of the police in charge
whether Faversham was in his room. Being told that he was, he asked leave
to pass along the gallery. An officer took him in charge, and he stepped,
not without a shudder, past the blood-stained spot, where a cruel spirit
had paid its debt. The man who led him pointed out the picture, the
chair, the marks of the muddy soles on the wainscotting, and along the
gallery--reconstructing the murder, in low tones, as though the dead man
still lay there. A hideous oppression indeed hung over the house.
Melrose's ghost held it.
The police officer knocked at Faversham's door. "Would Mr. Faversham
receive Lord Tatham?"
Faversham, risen from his writing-table, looked at his visitor in a dull
astonishment.
"I have come to bring you a message," said Tatham advancing, neither man
offering to shake hands. "I saw Miss Penfold early this morning--before
she got the newspapers.
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