“Again, ma’am, your faces would answer for the honesty of your business.  As for the circumstances you speak of, it may save time if I tell you that I know the whole story.  Why, truly,” he went on, as we stared, “there is no mystery about it.  I dare say, ma’am, the boy has found an opportunity to whisper to you that he and I have met before.  It was at Minden Cottage, in his father’s garden, and by the very spot where his father was murdered.  He found me there taking measurements; for I had a theory about the crime—­a theory of which I need only say here that, though right in the main, it missed certain details of which Harry’s engaging conversation put me on the scent.  I had read of the murder quite accidentally; but it happened that I knew something of Coffin—­enough to explain his fate—­and of the man who had murdered him.  But of Major Brooks I knew nothing; and what I gathered by inquiry made the whole affair more and more puzzling.  At length I hit on the explanation that Coffin—­who had reasons, and strong ones, for going in deadly terror of Aaron Glass—­had in some way chosen this Major Brooks for his confessor, and journeyed to Minden Cottage to deposit the secret with him; and that Glass, following in pursuit, had surprised and murdered the both of them.  The exact catena of the two crimes mattered less to me than the question:  Had Glass possessed himself of the secret before making off?  At first I saw no room to doubt it.  But your young friend’s account of himself sent me to Falmouth, and at Falmouth I began to have my doubts.  My earliest inquiries there were addressed to the pedagogue—­the Reverend Something-or-other Stimcoe—­a drunken idiot, who yielded no information at all; and to his wife, a lady who persisted in regarding me as sent from heaven for no other purpose than to discharge her small debts.  From her, again, I learned nothing.  But from a talk with one of her pupils—­his name was Bates, if I remember—­I discovered that Master Harry had been a particular crony of Coffin’s, and this, of course, threw light on Coffin’s visit to Minden Cottage.  Still, there remained the question:  Had Glass managed to lay hands on the chart, or had it found its way, after all, into the possession of Master Harry Brooks?  You’ll excuse me, young sir”—­Dr. Beauregard turned to me—­“but during our talk in the garden, your manner suggested to me that you had a card up your sleeve.  Well, whatever the answer, my obvious course was to return to Mortallone and await it, as for fifteen years already I have been awaiting it, though question and answer were but now beginning to take definite form.  Here you are then at last, and here am I—­ tout vient a point a qui sait attendre.”

“Then our arrival, sir, did not altogether surprise you?” said Miss Belcher.

“On the contrary, ma’am—­though for reasons you will not easily guess—­it surprised me as I have never been surprised in all my life before; it confounded me, dumfounded me, made chaos of my plans, and—­and—­I am delighted to welcome you, ma’am!  I desire to be allowed the honour of taking wine with you.”