“Yes, you were afraid because there was no sincerity in that friendship.  Now let me get this right!”

He remained silent for a little while, placing the events in their due order and interpreting them, one by the other.

“This is what I make of it,” he said at length.  “The man in London who supplies Walter Hine with money finds that Walter Hine is spending too much.  He therefore puts himself into communication with Garratt Skinner, of whom he has doubtless heard from Walter Hine.  Garratt Skinner travels to London, has an interview, and a concerted plan of action is agreed upon, which Garratt Skinner proceeds to put in action.”

He spoke so gravely that Sylvia turned anxiously toward him.

“What do you infer, then?” she asked.

“That we are in very deep and troubled waters, my dear,” he replied, but he would not be more explicit.  He had no doubt in his mind that the murder of Walter Hine had been deliberately agreed upon by Garratt Skinner and the unknown man in London.  But just as Sylvia had spared him during his months of absence, so now he was minded to spare Sylvia.  Only, in order that he might spare her, in order that he might prevent shame and distress greater than she had known, he must needs go on with his questioning.  He must discover, if by any means he could, the identity of the unknown man who was so concerned in the destiny of Walter Hine.

“Of your father’s friends, was there one who was rich?  Who came to the house?  Who were his companions?”

“Very few people came to the house.  There was no one amongst them who fits in”; and upon that she started.  “I wonder—­” she said, thoughtfully, and she turned to her lover.  “After my father had gone away, I found a telegram in a drawer in one of the rooms.  There was no envelope, there was just the telegram.  So I opened it.  It was addressed to my father.  I remember the words, for I did not know whether there was not something which needed attention.  It ran like this:  ’What are you waiting for?  Hurry up.’”

“Was it signed?” asked Chayne.

“Yes.  ‘Jarvice,’” replied Sylvia.

“Jarvice,” Chayne repeated; and he spoke it yet again, as though in some vague way it was familiar to him.  “What was the date of the telegram?”

“It had been sent a month before I found it.  So I put it back into the drawer.”

“‘What are you waiting for?  Hurry up.  Jarvice,’” said Chayne, slowly, and then he remembered how and when he had come across the name of Jarvice before.  His face grew very grave.

“We are in deep waters, my dear,” he said.

There had been trouble in his regiment, some years before, in which the chief figures had been a subaltern and a money-lender.  Jarvice was the name of the money-lender—­an unusual name.  Just such a man would be likely to be Garratt Skinner’s confederate and backer.  Chayne ran over the story in his mind again, by this new light.  It certainly strengthened the argument that the Mr. Jarvice who sent the telegram was Mr. Jarvice, the money-lender.  Thus did Chayne work it out in his thoughts: