"What case?"

"Papa Francoise, for the murder of the Jew."

"Say, the killing of the Jew; it was only manslaughter. We shall not press that case."

"What!"

"There is an older charge against Papa Francoise, and a weightier one."

"What is that?"

"It's the end of your search and mine, Van. When I arrested Papa Francoise to-day, I arrested _the murderer of Arthur Pearson_!"

"What!"

Van Vernet stopped short and faced his companion, his face growing ashen white.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "When I arrested Papa Francoise to-day, I arrested _the murderer of Arthur Pearson_!"--page 434.]

"It's true, Van. In trying to relieve the sufferings of a dying man, I stumbled upon the clue I might have sought after, and failed to find, for an hundred years."

They had halted at a street corner, and Van Vernet wheeled sharply about and made a step forward.

"Vernet, where are you going?"

"Nowhere; never mind me; we part here."

"Not yet, Van, I want to say--"

"Not now," broke in Vernet huskily. "You--have said enough--for once."

And he strode hurriedly down the side street.

"Poor Van," soliloquized Stanhope, as he gazed after the retreating figure. "Poor fellow; defeat and loss of fortune are too much for him."

And he turned and went thoughtfully on toward his own abode.

CHAPTER LVIII.

HOW STANHOPE CAME BACK.

Again we are in the office of the Chief of the detectives; in his private office, where he sits alone, looking bored and uncomfortable.

"Everybody late," he mutters, "and I hoped Follingsbee would come first."

He consults his watch, and finds that it is four o'clock. Four o'clock, and his interviews with the lawyer, the Australian, and the Englishman, yet to come.

Ten minutes more of waiting. Then the boy enters to announce Messrs.

Parks and Ainsworth.

The Chief rises to receive them, and accepts their excuses in silence.

"We drove about the city," says Walter Parks, "to pa.s.s away a portion of the time. An accident to our vehicle detained us."

Then the two men sit down and look expectantly at the Chief.

"Mr. Ainsworth," he says gravely, "I have news for you of Thomas Uliman and his wife; bad news, I regret to say."

"Bad news!" The Australian's face pales as he speaks. "Tell it at once, sir."

"Thomas Uliman and his wife are both dead."

The Australian bows his head upon his hand and remains silent.

"I can furnish you with dates and addresses that will enable you to make personal investigation. In fact, I am every moment expecting a visit from the gentleman who was Mr. Uliman's legal adviser."

"Ah," sighs the Australian, "he may tell me where to find my little daughter."

"I have also," resumes the Chief, "a brief report from Mr. Vernet."

At these words Walter Parks leans forward.

"May we hear it?" he asks anxiously.

"Mr. Follingsbee, sir," says the office-boy at the door, in obedience to orders. And then Mr. Follingsbee enters.

"I think," says the Chief, after performing the ceremony of introduction, "I think that we may waive all other business until Mr.

Ainsworth's anxiety has been, in a measure, relieved."

"By all means," acquiesced Walter Parks, suppressing his own feelings and withdrawing his chair a little into the background.

Then John Ainsworth turns to the lawyer an anxious face.

"I am told that you knew Thomas Uliman and his wife," he begins abruptly.

"The late Thomas Uliman," corrects the lawyer; "yes, sir."

"How long have they been dead?"

"More than three years. They died in the same year."

"Allow me"--the Chief interrupts. "This gentleman, Mr. Follingsbee, is the only brother of the late Mrs. Uliman. He has just been informed of her death."

"Indeed!" Mr. Follingsbee rises and extends his hand. "I have heard her speak of her brother John," he says. "She grew to believe that you were dead."