'
'And what of Lord Rantremly's son?'
'It was announced that he had gone on a voyage to Australia for his
health in a sailing ship, which was wrecked on the African coast, and
everyone on board lost.'
'What is your own theory?'
'Oh, my husband was killed by the blow given him in the chapel.'
'Madam, that does not seem credible. A blow from the fist seldom
kills.'
'But he fell backwards, and his head struck the sharp stone steps at
the foot of the altar. I know my husband was dead when the butler and
his father carried him out.'
'You think the clergyman was also murdered?'
'I am sure of it. Both master and servant were capable of any crime or
cruelty.'
'You received no letters from the young man?'
'No. You see, during our short friendship we were constantly together,
and there was no need of correspondence.'
'Well, madam, what do you expect of me?'
'I hoped you would investigate, and find perhaps where Reginald and
the clergyman are buried. I realise that I have no proof, but in that
way my strange story will be corroborated.'
I leaned back in my chair and looked at her. Truth to tell, I only
partially credited her story myself, and yet I was positive she
believed every word of it.
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