“All right,” responded Breton, gloomily.  “We’ll go and ask.  But this is all beyond me.  You don’t mean to say——­”

“Wait a while,” answered Spargo.  “One thing at once,” he continued, as they walked up Middle Temple Lane.  “This is the first thing.  You ask the porter if he’s seen anything of either of them—­he knows you.”

The porter, duly interrogated, responded with alacrity.

“Anything of Mr. Elphick this morning, Mr. Breton?” he answered.  “Certainly, sir.  I got a taxi for Mr. Elphick and Mr. Cardlestone early this morning—­soon after seven.  Mr. Elphick said they were going to Paris, and they’d breakfast at Charing Cross before the train left.”

“Say when they’d be back?” asked Breton, with an assumption of entire carelessness.

“No, sir, Mr. Elphick didn’t,” answered the porter.  “But I should say they wouldn’t be long because they’d only got small suit-cases with them—­such as they’d put a day or two’s things in, sir.”

“All right,” said Breton.  He turned away towards Spargo who had already moved off.  “What next?” he asked.  “Charing Cross, I suppose!”

Spargo smiled and shook his head.

“No,” he answered.  “I’ve no use for Charing Cross.  They haven’t gone to Paris.  That was all a blind.  For the present let’s go back to your chambers.  Then I’ll talk to you.”

Once within Breton’s inner room, with the door closed upon them, Spargo dropped into an easy-chair and looked at the young barrister with earnest attention.

“Breton!” he said.  “I believe we’re coming in sight of land.  You want to save your prospective father-in-law, don’t you?”

“Of course!” growled Breton.  “That goes without saying.  But——­”

“But you may have to make some sacrifices in order to do it,” said Spargo.  “You see——­”

“Sacrifices!” exclaimed Breton.  “What——­”

“You may have to sacrifice some ideas—­you may find that you’ll not be able to think as well of some people in the future as you have thought of them in the past.  For instance—­Mr. Elphick.”

Breton’s face grew dark.

“Speak plainly, Spargo!” he said.  “It’s best with me.”

“Very well,” replied Spargo.  “Mr. Elphick, then, is in some way connected with this affair.”

“You mean the—­murder?”

“I mean the murder.  So is Cardlestone.  Of that I’m now dead certain.  And that’s why they’re off.  I startled Elphick last night.  It’s evident that he immediately communicated with Cardlestone, and that they made a rapid exit.  Why?”

“Why?  That’s what I’m asking you!  Why?  Why?  Why?”

“Because they’re afraid of something coming out.  And being afraid, their first instinct is to—­run.  They’ve run at the first alarm.  Foolish—­but instinctive.”

Breton, who had flung himself into the elbow-chair at his desk, jumped to his feet and thumped his blotting-pad.

“Spargo!” he exclaimed.  “Are you telling me that you accuse my guardian and his friend, Mr. Cardlestone. of being—­murderers?”