his father share his secret knowledge?  Mr. Brimsdown could not answer these questions, and he was greatly perturbed at the way in which they brought a host of other thoughts and doubts in their train.  He reflected that the Turolds, father and son, were after all the greatest gainers by their relative’s death.  The father came into immediate possession of a large and unexpected fortune which he would bequeath to his son.  And Austin Turold was not anxious apparently to proceed with his brother’s claim for the title.

These were facts which could not be gainsaid, but where did they lead?  The trouble was that no conceivable theory covered the facts of the case, so far as they were known.  So far as they were known!  That was the difficulty.  Any line of thought stopped short of the real solution, because the facts themselves were inconclusive.  There was much that was still concealed—­Mr. Brimsdown felt sure of that.

As he applied his mind to the problem, the definite impression came back to him, and this time with renewed force, that the mystery surrounding Robert Turold’s death was something which might not bear the light of day.  He set his lips firmly as he considered that possibility.  If that proved to be the case it would be his duty to cover it up again.  He was an adept at such work, as many of his clients, alive and dead, could have approvingly testified.  He had spent much time in safeguarding family secrets.  Several old families had found him their rock of refuge in distress.  If he had been a man of the people, baby lips might have been taught to call down Heaven’s blessings on his discreet efforts.  Those members of the secluded domain of high respectability for whom he strived showed their gratitude in a less emotional but more substantial way—­generally in the mellow atmosphere of after-dinner conferences ...  “You had better see my man, Brimsdown.  I’ll give you a note to him.  He’ll square this business for you.  Safe?  None safer.”

Mr. Brimsdown did not accept the axiom of a great English jurist that every man is justified in evading the law if he can, because it is the duty of lawmakers not to leave any loophole for evasion.  That point of view of justice as a battle of wits, with victory to the sharpest, was a little too cynical for his acceptance.  But he believed it to be his duty to safeguard the interests of his client.  Robert Turold was dead, and no longer able to protect his own name.  It might be that the facts of his death involved some scandalous secret of the dead man’s which was better undivulged, and if so it would remain undivulged, could Mr. Brimsdown contrive it.  For the time being he would pursue his investigations and keep his own counsel.

The sound of an opening door and a shadow athwart the threshold disturbed his meditations.  He looked up, and was confronted by the spectacle of Thalassa advancing into the room with his eyes fixed upon him.

“Well, Thalassa,” he said, “what do you want?”