on the monday, after dr. banyard had been gone perhaps a couple of hours, mr. nash drove up to cloverlea in a dogcart. miss harding met him in the drive. at sight of her the gentleman descended; the cart went on up to the house, to wait for him. so soon as it was out of sight the lady, taking a packet from the bodice of her dress, gave it to her lover.

"that's the two hundred; put it in your pocket; i want you to promise that you'll not breathe a word to any one about the money having come from me."

"i promise readily."

"nor about any other money which--i may find. i want you to keep your own counsel; i want people to suppose that the money is your own; i don't want them to think i'm buying a husband."

"i certainly will neither do nor say anything to make them think so. all the same, darling, i don't know how to thank you; you don't know what this means to me. it seems to be all in gold?"

he was fingering the parcel in his jacket pocket.

"it is; i thought you might find it more convenient."

"i think it's possible you're right; i believe you always are."

as he had been coming along in the dogcart he had not seemed to be in the best of spirits; now he was unmistakably cheerful; that package had made a difference. a question, however, which she asked seemed to annoy him more than, on the surface, it need have done.

"what became of mr. peters?"

"they gave him six months--confound the idiots?"

"why confound them?"

the smile with which he accompanied his reply seemed forced.

"a lawyer likes his client to be acquitted."

"but dr. banyard says that he's a scoundrel."

"dr. banyard! you can tell dr. banyard, with my compliments, that he's a pharisee."

"i think nothing of the man; i think he's an interfering prig. i don't like him, and he doesn't like me."

"which shows that he must be all kinds of a fool."

"i don't know about that; but i do know that i don't like him. by the way, i suppose you understand what you're coming for. everything here is at sixes and sevens. nora knows absolutely nothing about her father's business affairs; he never told her anything; he kept his own counsel with a vengeance."

"so i gathered from your note."

"she doesn't even know who his man of business was. she wants you to find out; she thinks that if you look through his papers you will."

"there should be no difficulty about that. if i have access to his papers i ought to find that out inside ten minutes."

"i suppose so. but even if you do find out i don't see why you shouldn't keep the conduct of her affairs as much as possible in your hands; i think it might be done; you'll have my influence upon your side. you needn't say anything about there being an understanding between us; we can't keep people from guessing; but don't let them know--till it suits us."

he saw something in her eyes which caused him to pay her what some people would have regarded as an ambiguous compliment.

"by george, you're a clever one; you're the sort of girl i like!"

"i'm glad of that; because you happen to be the sort of man i like."

he laughed.

"i'd like to kiss you!"

"quite impossible, here. you see, it might be rather a good thing for you to have the management of nora's estate."

"true, oh queen!"

"then why shouldn't you have it?"

"i know of no reason."

"there is no reason, if you take proper advantage of the fact that you're first on the field." they had entered the house and were standing outside the study door. she produced a key. "nora's not appearing; poor dear, she's more distressed than i ever thought she would have been! so, on this occasion only, i am doing the honours. we've kept this room locked up since the day on which mr. lindsay was taken ill; no one has crossed the threshold; you'll find everything in the same condition in which he left it." they entered the room. so soon as they were in he kissed her, and she kissed him, though she protested. "hush! nora's waiting for me! remember what i told you; there's no reason why you shouldn't have the management of everything--if you like."

he communed with himself when she had left him.

"i wonder what she means, exactly; she's careful not to dot her i's. she's the dearest girl in the world, even dearer than i thought. this is something like a windfall." he took out the packet, fingering it, smilingly, with the fingers of both hands. then, replacing it in his pocket, glancing round the room, he was struck by the state of disorder it was in. "it's as well they kept the door locked; everything seems to have been left about for the first comer to admire. lindsay must have been having a regular turn-out when he was taken ill; i wonder why." on the writing-table the first thing which caught his eye were some slips of blue paper secured by a rubber band. he snatched them up. they were four promissory notes, payable at various dates; they all bore the same signature, herbert nash. he chuckled. "we'll consider those as paid, until they prove the contrary; which they'll find it hard to do." he slipped them into his breast pocket. settling himself on the chair on which mr. lindsay had been seated when death first touched him on the shoulder, he began to go methodically through the papers which were about him, practically, on all sides. he came on one, the contents of which seemed to occasion him profound surprise. "what on earth is this? what the dickens does it mean?" there was not a great deal on the paper; what there was he read again and again, as if he found its meaning curiously obscure. "this is queerish; i'd give a trifle to know what it does mean; it might be worth one's while to inquire."

folding up the paper he placed it in his breast pocket, with the promissory notes. hardly had he done so than the door was opened, without any warning, and dr. banyard came into the room.

"hallo, nash! have you found anything? have you found out who his man of business was?"

mr. nash glanced up from the papers he was studying; if he was a little startled by the doctor's unheralded appearance he gave no sign of it.

"i haven't discovered his man of business; but i have found something."

"you haven't come upon anything which shows who it was he generally employed; i understand you've been here some time."

mr. nash shook his head.

"i don't know how long i have been here, but i've come on nothing which shows that he ever employed any one at all."

"he must have employed some one."

the other shrugged his shoulders.

"i've gone through a good many of his papers; i've not hit on one which suggests it."

"you said you'd found something; what is it?"

"his will; or, rather, a will."

"that is something."

"especially as, beyond a shadow of doubt, it's the last will he ever made. it was drawn up on the third, last thursday, probably just before he was taken ill. it's in his own writing, brief, and to the point, and apparently quite in order, since it was witnessed by morgan, the butler here, and mrs. steele the housekeeper."

"let's have a look at it."

"here it is, in the envelope in which i found it."

the doctor examined the paper which he took out of the envelope; it seemed that its contents gave him satisfaction.

"i see that, by this, he's left everything to his daughter unconditionally."

"that is so, the intention's unmistakable."

"then she's safe; that's all right. it ought to be something handsome; i wonder how much it is."

"that's the question."

"i suppose you've come across something which gives you, at any rate, some vague notion."

"i haven't, that's the odd part of it."

"what do you mean?"

"well, i'm glad you've come."

"why? what's up? found the job too big to tackle single-handed? i thought you would."

"you're mistaken; that is not what i mean. i've gone through--hurriedly, but still thoroughly enough to have a pretty good idea of what it is that they contain--all the available books and papers; and, as you see, most of them seem available, everything seems open; and i've not found anything which even hints that he died the possessor of any property at all; with two exceptions. there is his pass-book at the local bank, showing a balance of about a hundred pounds, which may have been drawn on since; and there are the cloverlea title-deeds, there, in that deed-box."

"that only shows that everything essential is in the hands of his london lawyer."

"you seem to take the existence of such a person very much for granted. he told me himself he hadn't one."

"told you? when?"

"not long ago there was a little difficulty about a right of way; i don't know if you heard of it. he came to me about it; i then asked him who acted for him in town; he said no one."

"you are sure?"

"i am; for a man in his position it struck me as odd."

"he must have had a man in town, you misunderstood him. you haven't gone through all the papers?"

"not all."

"then we shall come upon it; i'll help you with the rest. there are no doubt papers elsewhere; probably in his bedroom, or at his rooms in town. have you found out what was his london address?"

"i have found nothing which shows that he had one."

"but he must have had a london address; why, he spent quite a large part of the year in town."

"i happen to know that the only london address miss lindsay ever had was the carlton club; they may be able to tell us there."

"of course they'll be able to tell us. found any cash?"

"not a penny."

"anything which stands for cash?"

"nothing; except what i have told you."

he had said nothing about what was in his breast-pocket.

"lindsay was a man of secretive habits; if he could help it he never let his left hand know what his right hand was doing. when you come to deal with the affairs of a man like that you're handicapped; but there can be no sort of doubt that he was a man of considerable means. it must have cost him something to live here; where did the money to do that come from? it must have come from somewhere."

"it seems that there are a good many debts; as you are possibly aware, there is a good deal owing round here."

"he was a man who hated paying."

suddenly the doctor glanced up from the papers he was examining to glare at his companion.

"look here, nash, what are you hinting at?"

"i am merely answering your questions."

"yes, but you're answering them in a way i don't like."

the younger man smiled.

"i am afraid that i didn't realize that my answers had to be to your liking, whatever the facts might be."

the doctor returned to the papers; he looked as if he could have said something vigorous, but refrained. after a while he had to admit that his researches, so far, had been without result.

"well, there seems to be nothing here, and that's a fact. these papers seem to contain material for a history of the cloverlea estate since it came into lindsay's possession; and that's all. now for the safe."

"i've gone through that."

"i'll go through it also; though from the look of it, it doesn't seem as if there were much to go through." he pulled out one of the small drawers at the bottom. "hallo, what have we here?" he took out an oblong wooden box. "what's this on the lid? 'peter piper's popular pills.'"

"what!"

the exclamation came from nash.

"here it is, large as life, in good bold letters; there ought to be something valuable in here." he opened the lid. "an envelope with papers in it; what's this writing on it? 'analyses of the constituent parts of peter piper's popular pills by leading analytical chemists.' what fools those fellows are! lindsay's writing; he doesn't seem to have had a high opinion of some one; let's hope there's nothing libellous. what's here besides? a bottle purporting to contain peter piper's popular pills; the man seems to have had them on the brain. and--other bottles containing the ingredients of which they're made; so it says outside them; as i'm alive! and the man kept this stuff inside his safe! nash, why are you looking at me like that?"

mr. nash was regarding the doctor with a somewhat singular expression on his face; when the doctor put the question to him he started, as if taken by surprise.

"looking at you? was i looking at you?"

"glaring was the better word."

"it was unconscious. are you--are you sure that they are peter piper's popular pills in that box?"

"sure? as if i could be sure about a thing like that! what do i know about such filth? look for yourself."

mr. nash examined the box with a show of interest which its contents scarcely seemed to warrant.

"how extremely--curious."

"fancy a man like lindsay harbouring such stuff as that! i should think it was curious!"

though both men used the same adjective one felt that each read into it a different meaning.

when mr. nash started to leave the house he found that the dogcart, which he supposed was still in waiting, had disappeared. he asked no questions, but drew his own conclusions. as he passed down the avenue, and perceived that miss harding was strolling among the trees, he smiled. so soon as the lady saw him she began to ply him with questions.

"well, what's happened?"

"one thing's happened, you've sent away my dogcart."

she looked at him with mischief in her eyes.

"walking will do you more good than driving; and it will cost you less. besides, it will give you an opportunity of exchanging a few words with me. i hope you don't mind."

"on the contrary, i'm delighted."

"what have you found?"

"i've found his will; he's left his daughter everything."

"everything! how splendid! i'm so glad he's left her everything!"

miss harding's face could not have been more radiant had she received a personal benefit.

"i shouldn't be over hasty in offering her your congratulations if i were you; it's quite possible that everything won't amount to very much."

she seemed struck by his tone even more than by his words.

"herbert! what do you mean?"

mr. nash kicked a pebble with his toe; then he whistled to himself; then he said, just as her patience was at an end--

"it's a bit awkward to explain, but it's this way; banyard and i have been going through his books and papers, and everything there was to go through; and there was a good deal, as you know; and we haven't come on anything which points to money or money's worth. i've been putting two and two together, and i rather think i understand the situation; when all's over and settled i shouldn't be surprised if miss lindsay would be very glad indeed to have your little fortune."

"my--my little fortune?"

"i'm alluding to the snug little legacy left you by your venerated aunt."

"it's--it's impossible!"

"more impossible things have happened; and i think i'm almost inclined to bet twopence that her fortune's nearer two thousand shillings than two thousand pounds."

"herbert! herbert!"

"what's the matter? why, little girl, you mustn't take on like that; what a sensitive little thing it is! it'll be through no fault of yours if she's left penniless! she's never been over nice to me, and i'm sure i shan't worry myself into an early grave if she is."

"you don't understand!" she wailed. "you don't understand."

by the domestic hearth that evening dr. banyard addressed to his wife some more or less sententious remarks, as he puffed at his pipe.

"there's something wrong up at cloverlea, confoundedly wrong. i don't understand what it is, and i don't like what i do understand. there's a riddle somewhere, and i'm half afraid we're not going to find the answer. mind you, i've actually no grounds to go upon, but i don't trust that man, nash; i've all sorts of doubts about the fellow."

mrs. banyard looked up from her sewing, and smiled; as is the way with wives of some years' standing she did not always take her husband so seriously as she might have done.

"poor mr. nash! you never do like good-looking men."

"it isn't only that."

"no; but it's partly that. you funny old man! it doesn't follow because you're ugly yourself that all good-looking men are necessarily worthless."

"generally speaking, a certain type of good-looking man is worth nothing."

"and mr. nash represents the type? and do you represent christian charity? what do you suspect him of now? of having the answer to that mysterious riddle?"

"i don't know; that's just it, i don't know; but i doubt him all the same."