"The doctors agreed that Thornton had been dead about fifteen days when the body was found. That brings his death pretty well, or, at any rate, very close, to the time of his disappearance."

"Still there might be a gap of a good many hours."

"I doubt it," said Westgate, stubbornly. "Let me tell you what happened, as it seems to me. On leaving the Law Courts Hotel, Thornton went to Chancery Lane, got somehow or other into Silwood's rooms, and died there suddenly a short while afterwards. I am convinced that he saw Silwood when he got into the room, and that something occurred between him and Silwood--I don't even attempt to guess what it was--which produced such an effect upon his weak heart that he dropped dead from the shock."

"Your explanation is plausible, but it suffers from your not being certain that Silwood was there with Thornton at the time of the latter's death. In a.s.suming Silwood's presence, you a.s.sume too much. But go on with your mapping out of what happened. Suppose we take your suppositions as certainties, what next?"

"When Silwood saw that Thornton was dead, he would ask himself what he was to do," Westgate resumed. "There was the body in the room, and its being there had to be accounted for somehow. Silwood, I am positive, shrank from saying anything about it--shrank to such an extent that he made up his mind to fly rather than appear to have any connection whatever with it."

The chief of the _Call_ shook his head.

"This," said he, "is just where your building up of the case tumbles to pieces. Suppose Thornton died in Silwood's presence, why on earth should not Silwood have said so boldly? Why should he have run away as you conjecture he did? Would it not have been far easier, safer, better for him to have at once summoned a policeman and told him what had happened?"

"But he didn't call a policeman!" exclaimed Westgate, eagerly; "don't you see where that lands you? Why did he not call a policeman--why?

Because he had some strong reason for not doing so. If everything had been absolutely all right, he would, as a matter of course, have summoned a policeman, and there would be no Thornton Mystery at all--only the pathos of the story of a man's career ending in such swift tragedy; that would have been all. No! Again I say that, for some reason or other, Silwood did not care to face the world and tell it what took place in his room that night. Instead of staying to face the music as an honest man would, he resolved on flight, and did accordingly fly the country the following morning. Mind you, I do not say that Silwood knew Thornton died from heart failure--that is another aspect of the thing; he may have believed that he had something to do physically with bringing about the death of Thornton. Still, that is not the main thing.

The main thing is that he had some good reason for flight, and that he did fly."

The chief said nothing, though a pause on Westgate's part gave him an opportunity of speaking.

"It is absurd," said the chief at last. "Silwood belongs to one of the best firms in London. His partner, Eversleigh, stands at the head of his profession. You saw him at the inquest."

"Yes; he sat beside Miss Thornton. I thought it rather strange that she should be present at the inquest, but it was evident she was much attached to Mr. Eversleigh in a daughterly way. They say she is engaged to his son."

"Well, Westgate, how does that fit in with your theories about Silwood, Eversleigh's partner?"

"Not very well, I admit, but we are only making guesses and trying to piece things out a bit. And I have not yet told you all that is in my mind."

"Go on," said the editor, as Westgate looked at him for permission.

"I paid very careful attention to the statement made by Inspector Gale.

Now, he's not a great detective, but he's shrewd."

The chief nodded a.s.sent.

"In his statement, Gale never once spoke as if he thought Silwood was dead."

"What do you say?" cried the other, aroused at last. "Did not speak as if he thought Silwood was dead! By Jove, that's a horse of another colour."

In a flash he saw that, if Silwood was not dead, then the theories of Westgate were likely to become substantialities.

"Gale wanted an open verdict; he actually recommended the jury to bring one in. He spoke of the murder being the work of either Silwood or the mysterious workman--that was before the medical men knocked the idea of murder into thin air--Gale was not prepared for that, I'll swear--but he never once spoke of Silwood as if he thought of Silwood as dead. I noticed that most particularly. Now, to go on with our supposings," said Westgate, with even greater eagerness than he already exhibited, "let us see where we are. Silwood is announced to have died of cholera at some outlandish place in the north of Italy. Perhaps he did, and perhaps he didn't. Say he did not, and that the whole thing is a plant, a put-up job?"

Westgate paused abruptly, and looked at his chief.

"Of course, I see your point," responded the editor. "You would say, following out your theories, that after locking the dead body of Thornton into his room, Silwood went to Italy, and has somehow or other had a false announcement of his death sent to England, hoping in this way to cover up his tracks effectually. But, once more, Westgate, my boy, where is the motive for all this astonishing business?"

"That, I confess, I do not know. But if Silwood is alive, why then, he is to be found----"

He broke off and gazed suggestively at the other.

"And you are the man to find him! Eh, is that it?" asked the editor, as quick as lightning.

"If you say the word!"

Perceval, chief of the _Call_, leaned back in his chair, lost in debate within himself for a minute. As a rule, it did not take nearly so long as that for him to make up his mind.

"All right," he said. "You can go. First, of course, you will go to this place in Italy and ascertain if Silwood died, was buried, and all the rest of it. That may be the end of your search; but if it is not, why then go ahead, Westgate. You'll start without delay, and let me know as soon as possible what you are doing."

And Westgate went from the presence of his chief, rejoicing exceedingly on being sent on a mission after his own heart.

It was therefore more than annoying that almost the first person he saw on his arrival in Genoa was Sub-inspector Brydges, Gale's under-study at Scotland Yard. As soon as he saw him he guessed that Gale had despatched his subordinate to Italy, to make inquiries about Silwood's death, and a brief conversation with the officer, whom he often met and knew perfectly, made this a certainty.

Brydges made no secret of his errand. He had already wired Gale that he was satisfied Silwood was dead, and had been buried at Camajore, just as the inspector had been informed by the Eversleighs. And he saw no reason for concealing this from Westgate, after they had had some talk together in which both of them, metaphorically speaking, put their cards, or most of them, on the table.

"You can take it from me," concluded Brydges, "that Mr. Silwood is as dead--as dead as Queen Anne."

But Westgate was not satisfied.

So he went to Camajore, saw the Syndic, the doctor, the nurses, and every one besides from whom he could get any information. The result was always the same. Silwood had died. The polite Syndic even took him to see the mound of earth under which lay Silwood's remains.

"It was no good?" asked the chief of Westgate on his return to the office of the _Call_.

"No good at all," said Westgate, much crestfallen.

CHAPTER XVIII

Upon the Eversleighs the verdict at the inquest had various effects.

Mrs. Eversleigh had been completely upset by the discovery of the body of Morris Thornton in the private rooms of Silwood, her husband's partner, but she recovered quickly after the verdict, which dispelled a great mult.i.tude of nameless fears that had sprung up within her mind.

The presence of Kitty at the inquest had been entirely her own idea, and it had required courage of an almost desperate sort to carry it out. Her lover, seeing the strain the girl was putting on herself, tried to dissuade her from going, but she bravely persisted. When the verdict was given, and she witnessed the relief it afforded her friends, she felt far more than repaid. At the same time, the tragedy which closed her father's life lay heavy upon her. What helped her most to bear it was Gilbert's love and unfailing sympathy. And on the girl herself all these strange and painful events resulted in materially deepening and strengthening her character. Hitherto anything of the kind had been far removed from her.

With regard to Gilbert Eversleigh, he knew not what to conclude, as all attempts on his part to reason out the mystery of Stone Buildings invariably ended in confusion. He told himself that the secret of the affair was never likely to be revealed, and was not sure if he were glad or sorry this should be the case. Yet at times he had an uneasy feeling that perhaps, after all, there was more to come.

On the benumbed mind, on the half-paralyzed faculties, of Francis Eversleigh the verdict for a while acted like a charm; for a short time its effect on him was little short of magical.

He had believed that Cooper Silwood had murdered Morris Thornton; what he alone knew made the deed only too probable. To find, then, that there had been no murder was a relief to him beyond all words to describe. For a few days it nearly made a man of him. He saw that much was dark regarding the death of his old friend and client, and he was absolutely certain that in some way or other Silwood was mixed up in it; but to know that his partner had not actually been guilty of the blackest crime in the calendar had a beneficial influence on him.

The sanguine side of his nature, long overshadowed, now began to a.s.sert itself; he even whispered to himself that it was possible his ruin might be averted after all.

At first he feared that the standing of the firm might be so gravely compromised by the events which had taken place that its position would be rendered hopeless by the withdrawal of their business by its clients; but, when then they took no steps in this direction, the elasticity of his mind a.s.serted itself more and more. As a matter of fact, a great deal of sympathy was expressed for him; several of his clients, indeed, went out of their way to a.s.sure him of their undiminished confidence and regard. No one for an instant suspected there was anything wrong with the firm. The death of Thornton was looked upon as an inexplicable fatality, that of Silwood as another.

In these rea.s.suring circ.u.mstances he took heart of grace, plucked up courage, and said to himself that he must make a decided change in his own habits and methods, and must no longer be easy-going, careless, and unsystematic, but must work doubly hard, and do whatever lay in his power to save the situation. But a man's character is not changed in a day, and Francis Eversleigh, despite his brave resolutions, was, at bottom, the same Francis Eversleigh. And with all the heart in the world to retrieve lost ground, it was hardly possible for him to do it, even if his affairs had been in a different position.

His most pressing duty, he knew, was to make that examination into the business of his firm which he had purposed making earlier. One morning towards the end of the week in which the verdict was given, he came to his office determined to commence a thorough overhauling of his accounts, but his innate weakness prevented him from persevering. And, in addition to the slackness habitual to him, there was another reason that kept him back. And this reason was Williamson.