Fleming Stone might take the case if they wanted him to; or they might get some one else.  But I could not go on, when the only clues discoverable pointed in a way I dared not look.

Philip Crawford was ghastly now.  His face was working and he breathed quickly.

“Nonsense, Dad!” cried a strong, young voice, and his son, Philip, Jr., bounded into the room and grasped his father’s hands.  “I overheard a few of your last words, and you two are on the wrong track.  Florrie’s no more mixed up in that horrible business than I am.  Neither is Hall.  He’s a fool chap, but no villain.  I heard what you said about the late newspaper, but lots of people come out on that midnight train.  You may as well suspect some peaceable citizen coming home from the theatre, as to pick out poor Hall, without a scrap of evidence to point to him.”

I was relieved beyond all words at the hearty assurance of the boy, and I plucked up new courage.  Apprehension had made me faint-hearted, but if he could show such flawless confidence in Florence and her betrothed, surely I could do as much.

“Good for you, young man!” I cried, shaking his hand.  “You’ve cheered me up a lot.  I’ll take a fresh start, and surely we’ll find out something.  But I’d like to send for Stone.”

“Wait a bit, wait a bit,” said Mr. Crawford.  “Phil’s right; there’s no possibility of Florrie or Hall in the matter.  Leave the gold bag, the newspapers, and the yellow posies out of consideration, and go to work in some sensible way.”

“How about Mr. Joseph’s finances?” I asked.  “Are they in satisfactory shape?”

“Never finer,” said Philip Crawford.  “Joseph was a very rich man, and all due to his own clever and careful investments.  A bit of a speculator, but always on the right side of the market.  Why, he fairly had a corner in X.Y. stock.  Just that deal—­and it will go through in a few days—­means a fortune in itself.  I shall settle that on Florence.”

“Then you think the will will never be found?” I said.

Mr. Crawford looked a little ashamed, as well he might, but he only said

“If it is, no one will be more glad than I to see Florrie reinstated in her own right.  If no will turns up, Joe’s estate is legally mine, but I shall see that Florence is amply provided for.”

He spoke with a proud dignity, and I was rather sorry I had caught him up so sharply.

I went back to the inn, and, after vainly racking my brain over it all for a time, I turned in, but to a miserably broken night’s rest.

A CALL ON Mrs. PURVIS

The next morning I received information from headquarters.  It was a long-code telegram, and I eagerly deciphered it, to learn that Mrs. Egerton Purvis was an English lady who was spending a few months in New York City.  She was staying at the Albion Hotel, and seemed to be in every way above suspicion of any sort.