I am now.  And it was not until three years ago that I found Chamberlayne.  I found him in this way:  After I became secretary to the Safe Deposit Company, I took chambers in the Temple, above Cardlestone’s.  And I speedily found out who he was.  Instead of going abroad, the old fox—­though he was a comparatively young ’un, then!—­had shaved off his beard, settled down in the Temple and given himself up to his two hobbies, collecting curiosities and stamps.  There he’d lived quietly all these years, and nobody had ever recognized or suspected him.  Indeed, I don’t see how they could; he lived such a quiet, secluded life, with his collections, his old port, and his little whims and fads.  But—­I knew him!”

“And you doubtless profited by your recognition,” suggested Breton.

“I certainly did.  He was glad to pay me a nice sum every quarter to hold my tongue,” replied Myerst, “and I was glad to take it and, naturally, I gained a considerable knowledge of him.  He had only one friend—­Mr. Elphick, in there.  Now, I’ll you about him.”

“Only if you are going to speak respectfully of him,” said Breton sternly.

“I’ve no reason to do otherwise.  Elphick is the man who ought to have married your mother.  When things turned out as they did, Elphick took you and brought you up as he has done, so that you should never know of your father’s disgrace.  Elphick never knew until last night that Cardlestone is Chamberlayne.  Even the biggest scoundrels have friends—­Elphick’s very fond of Cardlestone.  He——­”

Spargo turned sharply on Myerst.

“You say Elphick didn’t know until last night!” he exclaimed.  “Why, then, this running away?  What were they running from?”

“I have no more notion than you have, Spargo,” replied Myerst.  “I tell you one or other of them knows something that I don’t.  Elphick, I gather, took fright from you, and went to Cardlestone—­then they both vanished.  It may be that Cardlestone did kill Maitland—­I don’t know.  But I’ll tell you what I know about the actual murder—­for I do know a good deal about it, though, as I say, I don’t know who killed Maitland.  Now, first, you know all that about Maitland’s having papers and valuables and gold on him?  Very well—­I’ve got all that.  The whole lot is locked up—­safely—­and I’m willing to hand it over to you, Breton, when we go back to town, and the necessary proof is given—­as it will be—­that you’re Maitland’s son.”

Myerst paused to see the effect of this announcement, and laughed when he saw the blank astonishment which stole over his hearers’ faces.

“And still more,” he continued, “I’ve got all the contents of that leather box which Maitland deposited with me—­that’s safely locked up, too, and at your disposal.  I took possession of that the day after the murder.  Then, for purposes of my own, I went to Scotland Yard, as Spargo there is aware.  You see, I was playing a game—­and it required some ingenuity.”