"I?" asked Gilbert.

"Yes," Francis Eversleigh replied, with some decision. "I can do nothing. In fact, I am physically and mentally unfit to do anything of importance at present. The discovery of the secret chamber, indicating as it must that Silwood is alive, supplied me with a sort of stimulus, but that is passing off, and I feel as weak and helpless as a child. I feel," he went on, while he slowly put his hand to his forehead, "as if I were going mad. It is an awful feeling!"

"Father!"

"Oh," cried Eversleigh, "this business will be the death of me! I know it!"

These words, Gilbert told himself, were caused by the reaction to which his father had alluded, and were not to be taken literally, but he gazed solicitously at the other.

"No wonder you are depressed, father," he said, in a sympathetic tone. "Well, I'll go to Italy," he added in another voice.

"That's right! Don't mind me! You must go at once, my boy."

"Yes, but what about Bennet? We have rather lost sight of him, have we not?"

"I think we need not consider Bennet at the moment. I shall answer his lawyer and say you are willing to be retained for Bennet's defence."

"You deem that best?"

"What choice have I, Gilbert?"

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders.

"There is no alternative," continued Eversleigh. "But some time must pass before the trial; indeed, you will have a good many weeks to come and go upon. Surely that will give you plenty of room for making your inquiries. Still, there is no saying—the task may be very difficult."

Eversleigh paused, lost in thought.

"You would not bring the police into the thing?" Gilbert asked suggestively.

"Not at first. Later, perhaps, but I don't know; it must depend on circumstances one can neither foresee nor control. I shall certainly say not a word at this juncture to the police."

"What about the Foreign Office people?"

"Yes, that is a good idea. I think your best plan is to go and see, if you can, Sir John Manners, the Under-Secretary, whom I know very well. I'll give you a note to him, and request him to make your path as smooth as possible. If you see him personally, I should be inclined to tell him in confidence what we now believe about Silwood—that is, if he is at all encouraging in his manner. You must judge for yourself."

"I understand," said Gilbert.

"I should ask him for an introduction to the British Ambassador at Rome. It might prove very useful. Arm yourself with the best credentials you can get; but of course you must be guided largely by what Sir John says."

"Yes," assented Gilbert. "But suppose he is not at the Foreign Office? At this time of the year so many officials are away on holiday."

"You can see, at any rate, the man next to him; still, it would be far better to see Sir John."

"I had better set off for Downing Street immediately," said Gilbert, but he did not at once move. Instead, he looked very thoughtful; at length he spoke, "You have no doubt about Silwood being alive, sir?"

"None whatever."

"You believe he was here last night—here, in London, in this office?"

"Certainly."

"Then should we not look for him in London?"

"A natural question; but does not that mean bringing in the police?"

"There are private detectives to be got. I have one at this moment on the track of Russell, who bought so much from Silwood."

"I do not object to having a private detective employed, but I have a strong impression—it amounts really to a certainty—that the clue is to be picked up in Camajore, where Silwood was reported to have died. On the face of the certificate, which we now believe to be a false one, there is written, plain as if it had been in ink, collusion between Silwood and the Syndic. They were, you may be sure, in league, and they may be so still. Be that as it may, you can make investigations, which I am positive will have valuable results."

Eversleigh leaned back wearily, fatigued with so much speaking.

"Will you try and find Sir John at the Foreign Office, then return and let me know? Meanwhile I'll rest a little," said Eversleigh.

In a couple of hours Gilbert was back again in Lincoln's Inn. He had been lucky enough in his errand. He had seen the Under-Secretary, who had given him the introduction he had wanted to the Ambassador at the Quirinal.

"I did not think it necessary to tell Sir John," said Gilbert, relating what had taken place at the Foreign Office, "anything regarding what we now know about Silwood. On the way to Downing Street I went over the circumstances carefully, and I came to the conclusion that it might serve our purpose well enough merely to say to him that, as Silwood had died in Italy, you desired me to make inquiries, to see the body had been buried decently, to have a tombstone put up, and so on. And that it would, or might be, of great service if he would give me a note to the Ambassador, to be presented, however, only if an occasion arose for doing so."

"And Sir John was satisfied?"

"Perfectly. He was very nice about it, and said he was delighted to be of use to you."

Eversleigh smiled wanly. Then he spread out on his table some papers, which Gilbert saw were the certificate of Silwood's death, the letter of Ugo Ucelli, the Syndic of Camajore, that had accompanied it, and the envelope in which both had been enclosed.

"It occurred to me," observed Eversleigh, "that it would be well for you to take these with you."

He handed them to his son.

"Do you recall the contents of the Syndic's letter?" he went on. "Perhaps you had better have the translation."

"I remember what he said in a general sort of way, but the translation might be a help," replied Gilbert.

"Well, here it is," said Eversleigh, drawing a folded sheet from a packet.

Gilbert read the translation rapidly, and asked—

"Did you ever answer the letter?"

"Not beyond sending a formal acknowledgment."

"The letter speaks of Silwood having left certain effects, which the Syndic says are in his possession; he asks you what is to be done with them."

"I know, I know," remarked Eversleigh. "Of course, if the circumstances had been normal, I should have attended to the Syndic's letter fully. But I was in no state to do so. The letter, you must remember, came on the day of the discovery of Morris Thornton's body—was, indeed, the immediate cause of the discovery. Before that—ever since Silwood's confession—I was too upset to give my mind to business properly, and since that I have been able to attend to nothing as it ought to be attended to."

And Eversleigh sighed painfully.

"I would not brood on that, sir," observed Gilbert.

"I cannot help it; but never mind me just now. I suppose you will leave to-night for Genoa; you ought to be there in thirty-six hours or so. Therefore you should see the Syndic, if he is at the place still, in two days from now. His letter to me gives you an opening. You can tell him I asked you to find out what effects Silwood left."

"That will do very well indeed," said Gilbert.

A few minutes later he bade his father good-bye, and left that evening for the Continent. In forty-eight hours he was in Camajore, and lost no time in hunting up Ugo Ucelli, its Syndic, or Chief Magistrate.

Ucelli, a medium-sized man of characteristically Italian appearance, received him with extreme politeness. When the Syndic understood Gilbert did not know Italian, he conversed with him in French, a language both were proficient in.

Gilbert made known who he was, and the errand on which, ostensibly, he had come.

"Ah! that poor Monsieur Silwood," said Ucelli. "His was an extremely sad case. But what would you? It was the will of God."

Gilbert kept his eyes fixed on the man, and studied his face closely, as if he could in that way penetrate its inmost secrets.

"The cholera was everywhere," continued Ucelli, "and many died besides M. Silwood. It has been a great calamity. Alas! but it is the will of God! the will of God!"

The repetition of the phrase irritated Gilbert.

"A pestilence is always terrible," he said, but somewhat bluntly. "You did all you could, I am sure, for Mr. Silwood."

"The best doctors, nurses, care—everything. But, alas! it was the will of God."

"What a consummate hypocrite the man must be!" thought Gilbert. Aloud he said, "Was the body buried near here?"

"In the churchyard. Come, let me show you his tomb."

As they went together down the single street of which Camajore consists, towards the church, Gilbert said his father had specially charged him to discuss with Ucelli what was to be done with the effects Silwood had left behind him, and which were now in the Syndic's possession.

"Yes; when we return to my house I will show you them. There is not much—some letters, a pocket-book containing a few pounds in notes, and some gold and silver, the money amounting in all to about twenty pounds English. There is also a watch, and I believe that is all. As Syndic I have kept them, but, of course, am very willing to hand them over to the proper authority. Indeed, I shall be very glad to do so."

By this time the two men had reached the grave-yard. On entering it, Ucelli pointed to the numerous mounds on which the earth was comparatively fresh.

"The cholera," he said; "it was the cholera! Alas! it was the will of God!"

Gilbert nodded, his face set and stern.

"See," said the Syndic, when they had advanced a few steps, pointing to a mound, "that is where the body of M. Silwood lies."

In appearance this mound differed in no respect from the rest.

"Do you think of erecting a monument to M. Silwood?" asked Ucelli. "If so, I can have it made for you here."

"No," replied Gilbert, shortly. "What I intend to do is to remove the body to England."

"The body removed to England!" said the Syndic, who had given a great start on hearing Gilbert's statement.

"Yes; that seems best," remarked Gilbert, watching Ucelli keenly, and noticing his surprise.

"But think! he died of cholera! The law will forbid—it does forbid—the body of one who has died of cholera from being removed. It is therefore impossible, I regret to tell you, for you to carry out your intention. I am very sorry, for your idea is a natural one; but the law, monsieur, the law will not permit it."

"There's a good deal of cleverness about this plot," thought Gilbert. But he said to Ucelli, "I am very sorry to hear this. Is there no way of getting over the difficulty?"

"No way, monsieur, none whatever. It is impossible. It is the law. And it is also common sense," he added, smoothly and courteously. "On reflection you must admit it."

"Suppose the law did not forbid it," asked Gilbert, "what should I have to do in order to be allowed to remove the body?"

"The authorities must give permission."

"What authorities?"

"At Rome. I can do nothing in such a matter; it is too high for me."

"Then to Rome I must go," said Gilbert to himself. But he talked no more on this subject with the Syndic, who accordingly thought Gilbert was satisfied, and had abandoned any idea he might have had of removing the body to England.

Then they went to the office of the Syndic, and there Gilbert was shown the effects to which allusion had already been made. In addition to the articles and sums of money mentioned by Ucelli, there were two leather valises and some clothing. The Syndic explained that it had been necessary to burn most of the clothes that had belonged to Silwood.

"If you would like to examine or look into anything," said Ucelli, "you are at liberty to do so. It is, perhaps, slightly irregular, as you are not a relative of the deceased, but I make no objection."

"Everything has been carefully planned," thought Gilbert, as he mentally took note of the various objects. "They have succeeded in making the thing look perfectly natural and what would be expected in the circumstances. The watch, the clothes, the money, the letters, the travelling-bags, are just what one would expect to find as the dead man's effects, if he had been a dead man."

"To give you these, I shall require to have an order from the Government," said Ucelli.

"The Government at Rome?"

"Yes."

"I suppose, then," said Gilbert, "I had better go on to Rome?"

"That is your best course," agreed Ucelli, without suspicion, and he bade Gilbert bon-voyage.