Durham shrugged his shoulders. "The poor chap is not in a condition to carry off anything," he said; "he's lying pretty well worn out in bed, and Payne says it will be a long time before he is himself. I think he is simply pleased to know he has been accepted as Bernard, and is glad to postpone an explanation in case he'll be turned out."

"There's no danger of that," said d.i.c.k. "My aunt wouldn't turn out a cat in that state, much less a human being."

"Oh, Miss Berengaria seems to have taken quite a fancy to the man. She declares there's pluck in him, and----"

"But seeing he is a criminal--a murderer----"

"We don't know that he is, Conniston, and this"--Durham laid his hand on the diary--"goes to prove his innocence."

"Bosh!" said d.i.c.k, jumping up. "I believe Mrs. Gilroy prepared that diary and left it out so that Miss Randolph would drop across it. If anyone killed Sir Simon it was Michael."

"Or Beryl."

"He was at the theatre."

"I know, but he managed to get the deed done by someone else. I really can't give an opinion yet, Conniston," said Durham resuming his seat, with a shrug; "to-morrow, when I see this Italian, I may learn something likely to throw light on the case. Meantime go back and tell Bernard I am working hard."

"That goes without the speaking," said his lordship, lightly; "we know what a worker you are, Mark. But Bernard wishes to take a hand in the game."

"Then he shall not do so," said Durham, sharply. "If he appears at this juncture all will be lost. I have a plan," he added, hesitating.

"What is it?" demanded the curious Conniston.

"Never you mind just now. It has to do with Mrs. Gilroy being drawn from her hiding-place. I'll tell you what it is after I have seen Tolomeo.

But the success of my plan depends upon Bernard keeping in the background. If you tell him about Michael----"

"He'll be over like a shot. And after all, Mark, it's not pleasant to think a fellow is masquerading as you with the girl you love."

"Bernard must put up with that," snapped Durham, who was getting cross.

"His neck depends upon my management of this affair. Should he go to Hurseton he will be recognized by everyone, let alone Jerry, who would at once tell Beryl. You know what that means."

"I know that Beryl is playing for a big stake he won't land," said Conniston, grimly, and walked towards the door. "All right, Mark, I'll sit on Bernard and keep him quiet. But, I say, I want to tell you I am in love with----"

"Conniston, I will certainly throw something at your head if you don't clear. I have enough to do without listening to your love----"

"Not mine. She is--well there, I daresay your nerves are thin. I do wish all this business was ended. You used to be no end of a chap, and now you are as cross as a battery mule and twice as obstinate."

Lord Conniston talked himself out of the office, and went down to Cove Castle by a later train. Here he managed to pacify the impatient Bernard, no easy task. But the lessons of that week taught d.i.c.k patience, a quality he had always sadly lacked.

True to the appointment made by letter, Signor Tolomeo appeared at Durham's office and was at once shown in. He was a tall man with a keen, clever, dark face. His hair and mustache were gray and he had a military appearance. In his bearing there was great dignity, and it could be seen at a glance that he had good blood in his veins. It was true what Sir Simon had said. The Tolomeo family had been n.o.bles of the Sienese Republic for many a century, and although their present-day representative was poor in pocket and played the violin for a living, yet he looked a great lord. But his dark eyes had a somewhat reckless expression in them, which showed that Tolomeo lacked what is called moral principle.

Durham received him politely and indicated a seat near his desk with a smile. Tolomeo, with great courtesy, bowed and sat down. Then he fixed his large eyes on the lawyer with an inquiring air, but was too astute to say anything. He had been brought here on an errand, the purport of which he knew nothing; therefore he waited to hear what Durham had to say before he committed himself.

"Signor Tolomeo," said the lawyer, "you were surprised to see my advertis.e.m.e.nt?"

"I was indeed," replied the Italian, who spoke excellent English. "Our last interview was not particularly pleasant."

"This may be still less so," rejoined Durham, dryly; "but as it concerns your nephew Bernard, perhaps you will be frank with me."

"Ah, poor Bernard!" said the uncle. "He is dead."

"No. He is alive."

"Gran Dio!" Tolomeo started from his seat in a somewhat theatrical manner. "What is this you say, signor?"

"I say that he is alive, but in hiding. I tell you this because I know you like Bernard and appreciate his kindness to you."

"Yes! The boy is a good boy. He has been very kind to me. Although,"

added Tolomeo, with a somewhat cynical air, "I do not deserve it. Ah, signor, the want of money makes us all sad rascals."

"That depends upon ourselves," said Durham, somewhat stiffly. "No man need be a rascal unless he likes."

"Money can make a good man or a bad one," insisted the Italian.

"I don't agree with you. But this is not what I wish to talk about, Signor Tolomeo. You are pleased that Bernard is alive."

"Very pleased. But I trust he will escape."

"Ah! Then you believe he is guilty of the crime."

"He--or the other one."

"What other one?" asked Durham, sharply.

Tolomeo looked directly at the lawyer. "Before I speak out," he said, "it will set my mind at rest to know what you mean."

"Does that hint you want money?"

"Money is always a good thing, and I need it badly," said Guiseppe shrugging, "but, as this regards my own nephew, I am willing to aid him without money. I loved my sister, his mother, and she was badly treated by that old man!" Tolomeo's eyes flashed. "He insulted her, and we--the Tolomeo n.o.bles--were great lords in Siena when your England was wild forest and savage peoples."

"Did you tell Sir Simon this when you saw him on that night?"

The Italian started up in some alarm. "What? You say I was with this English miser when he died?"

"No, I don't say that. But I say you were at the house on that very night, and about the time the murder was committed. For all I know, signor, you may be able to say who killed him."

Guiseppe, twisting his hat in his hands, looked keenly at Durham with his dark eyes. "Signor, be explicit," he said.

"I'll explain myself thoroughly," said Durham. "You can sit down again, signor. Bernard," he continued, when the Italian obeyed this request, "inherits his grandfather's property, and, of course the t.i.tle. He wants to help you, and proposes to give you five hundred a year as soon as possible."

"Ah! That is good of him," said Tolomeo, gratefully.

"But," went on Durham, with emphasis, "Bernard cannot give you this income until he is formally put in possession of the estate; and he cannot take possession of the estate until he is cleared from this charge of murder. Now you can help me to clear him."

"Signor," said the Italian at once, "I thought Bernard was dead; that, as the papers said, he had been drowned crossing the river. But now that I know he is alive, you can command my services without money. All the same," added Tolomeo, smiling and showing his white teeth, "a little five hundred a year will make me a great lord in Siena, to which town I shall return."

"After helping Bernard?" warned Durham.