Mr. Carr nodded his head, thinking the latter more than probable.  His fingers were playing with a newspaper which happened to lie on the clerk’s desk; and he put the next question with a very well-assumed air of carelessness, as if it were but the passing thought of the moment.

“Did he ever talk about Mr. Elster?”

“Never but once.  He came to my house one evening to tell me he had discovered the hiding-place of a gentleman we were looking for.  I was taking my solitary glass of gin and water after supper, the only stimulant I ever touch—­and that by the doctor’s orders—­and I could not do less than ask him to help himself.  You see, sir, we did not look upon him as a common sheriff’s man:  and he helped himself pretty freely.  That made him talkative.  I fancy his head cannot stand much; and he began rambling upon recent affairs at Calne; he had not been back above a week then—­”

“And he spoke of Mr. Elster?”

“He spoke a good deal of him as the new Lord Hartledon, all in a rambling sort of way.  He hinted that it might be in his power to bring home to him some great crime.”

“The man must have been drunk indeed!” remarked Mr. Carr, with the most perfect assumption of indifference; a very contrast to the fear that shot through his heart.  “What crime, pray?  I hope he particularized it.”

“What he seemed to hint at was some unfair play in connection with his brother’s death,” said the old clerk, lowering his voice. “’A man at his wits’ end for money would do many queer things,’ he remarked.”

Mr. Carr’s eyes flashed.  “What a dangerous fool he must be!  You surely did not listen to him!”

“I, sir!  I stopped him pretty quickly, and bade him sew up his mouth until he came to his sober senses again.  Oh, they make great simpletons of themselves, some of these young fellows, when they get a little drink into them.”

“They do,” said the barrister.  “Did he ever allude to the matter again?”

“Never; and when I saw him the next day, he seemed ashamed of himself, and asked if he had not been talking a lot of nonsense.  About a fortnight after that we parted, and I have never seen him since.”

“And you really do not know what has become of him?”

“Not at all.  I should think he has left London.”

“Why?”

“Because had he remained in it he’d be sure to have come bothering me to employ him again; unless, indeed, he has found some one else to do it.”

“Well,” said Mr. Carr, rising, “will you do me this favour?  If you come across the man again, or learn tidings of him in any way, let me know it at once.  I do not want him to hear of me, or that I have made inquiries about him.  I only wish to ascertain where he is, if that be possible.  Any one bringing me this information privately will find it well worth his while.”

He went forth into the busy streets again, sick at heart; and upon reaching his chambers wrote a note for a detective officer, and put some business into his hands.