The detective had learned much, yet about certain things he was in the dark as much as ever.  The mysterious Number Four—­he had not asked the penitent for his name—­had given him the names and addresses of fourteen men connected with the band of counterfeiters.  Eleven of these individuals were makers of the bogus bank bills, and the other three operated in the big cities, disposing of the “goods” in bulk to others, who in their turn, fed the bad bills to the general public.

So far as Number Four knew, Matlock Styles was the head of the gang, but the man had said there was another individual, to whom Styles often went for advice.  This man was considered to be very shrewd, but what his name was there was no telling.  Number Four ventured a guess that he might be connected with the United States treasury department.

After his escape from the den, Adam Adams had gone to Stony Hill in secret, and there verified Matlock Styles’ story that the Englishman had not been near the Langmore mansion during the time the murders were committed.  So, from that crime, at least, the counterfeiter was apparently cleared.

But this only made the mystery connected with the counterfeits in the safe so much deeper.  Number Four had never mentioned Barry Langmore when speaking of the members of the gang, and when questioned about the man, said he had known him by sight and that was all.

Less than an hour after he had sent out the messenger, there came a knock on the door and Tom Ostrello presented himself.

“You are the gentleman that wishes to see me?” he inquired.

“I believe you wish to see me,” was the reply, as the detective closed the door and locked it again.  “Sit down, Mr. Ostrello.  I am Adam Adams.”

“Oh, I—­er—­I didn’t quite recognize you in that dress.”

“I suppose not.”  There was a brief pause.  “Mr. Ostrello, if you wish to speak to me, I am at your disposal for the next hour.”

“Thank you.”  The young commercial traveler cleared his throat.  “You are—­I mean, I believe you know the relationship between Miss Bernard and myself?”

“She has told me something about that.”

“She tells me you are her closest friend—­that you have really been a father to her since her own parent died.  And she tells me that you are one of the greatest detectives in the world.  I wish I had known that when we first met—­I should have engaged you to clear up the mystery of this sad affair.”

The young man paused again.  Evidently it was hard work for him to get directly at the subject on hand.  Adam Adams remained silent.

“I did not imagine that I—­well, that I would be connected with this great crime.  I mean, that anybody would suspect that I had done the deed.  It is a fearful thought!  That I would kill my own mother!  I know such things have been done, but they must have been done by beasts, not men.  I know I should have spoken of the visit that very morning to my mother.”