“A meeting?  Is that it?” exclaimed Walter.

“No, that’s not the idea,” answered Dunn.  “You see, the idea is that Rupert Dunsmore will be there at four, and that I’m to be there in ambush to murder myself.  Whoever is behind all this will be there too—­to see I carry out my work properly.  And that gives us our chance.”

“Oh, that’s good,” exclaimed Walter.  “We shall have him for certain.”

“That’s what I want you to see to,” said Dunn.  “I want you to have men you can trust well hidden all round, ready to collar him.  And I want you to have all the roads leading to Ottam’s Wood well watched and every one going along them noted.  You understand?”

“That’s quite easy,” declared Walter.  “I can promise not a soul will get into Ottam’s Wood without being seen, and I’ll make very sure indeed of getting hold of any one hiding anywhere near Brook Bourne Spring.  And once we’ve done that—­once we know who it is—­”

“Yes,” agreed Dunn.  “We shall be all right then.  That is the one thing necessary to know—­the key move to the problem—­the identity of who it is pulling the strings.  He must be a clever beggar; anyhow, I mean to see him hang for it yet.”

“I daresay he’s clever,” agreed Walter.  “He is playing for big stakes.  Anyhow, we’ll have him tomorrow all right; that seems certain—­at last.”

“At last,” agreed Dunn, with a long-drawn sigh.  “Ugh! it’s all been such a nightmare.  It’s been pretty awful, knowing there was some one—­not able to guess who.  Ever since you discovered that first attempt, ever since we became certain there was a plot going on to clear out every one in succession to the Chobham estates—­ and that was jolly plain, though the fools of police did babble about no evidence, as if pistol bullets come from nowhere and poisoned cups of tea—­”

“Ah, I was to blame there, that was my fault,” said Walter.  “You see, we had no proof about the shooting, and when I had spilt that tea, no proof of poison either.  I shall always regret that.”

“A bit of bad luck,” Dunn agreed.  “But accidents will happen.  Anyhow, it was clear enough some one was trying to make a jolly clear sweep.  It may be a madman; it may be some one with a grudge against us; it may be, as poor Charley thought, some one in the line of succession, who is just clearing the way to inherit the title and estates himself.  I wish I knew what made Charley suspicious of Deede Dawson in the first place.”

“You don’t know that?” Walter asked.

“No, he never told me,” answered Dunn.  “Poor Charley, it cost him his life.  That’s another thing we must find out—­where they’ve hidden his body.”

“He was sure from the first,” remarked Walter, “that it was a conspiracy on the part of some one in the line of succession?”

“Yes,” agreed Dunn.  “It’s likely enough, too.  You see, ever since that big family row and dispersion eighty years ago, a whole branch of the family has been entirely lost sight of.  There may be half a dozen possible heirs we know nothing about.  Like poor John Clive.  I daresay if we had known of his existence we should have begun by suspecting him.”