"nothing appears,

all is concealed;

chance interferes,

all is revealed."

it was a great idea, and one which had never entered the brains of the detectives employed in the case, so maxwell looked upon it as an earnest of success. he told no one about it, not even mrs. belswin, nor kaituna; but informing them that he was called out of town for a few days on business, made his preparations for going to deswarth, and finding out all particulars regarding the case which had not come to light at the inquest.

then chance interfered.

on the morning of his departure he was having breakfast at his rooms, intending to catch the eleven train to deswarth, when his departure was postponed indefinitely by the appearance of a visitor.

and the visitor was mrs. belk.

she sent up her name to archie, who told the servant to admit her, wondering on what errand she had come--never for a moment thinking that she could have anything to do with the deswarth tragedy.

mrs. belk entered, neatly dressed in her widow's garb, with her mean evil face looking smug and placid under the white frill of her widow's cap. on seeing archie she curtsied in an old-fashioned way, and, with the natural deference of the lower orders, waited for him to speak first.

"you wish to see me," he said, looking at her in some surprise, for such an odd figure had never before entered his chambers.

mrs. belk, with another curtsey, signified that she did wish to see him, and had come to london for that purpose. this reply having been made, she shut her mouth with a snap, and waited, still giving no hint of her errand.

"will you not be seated, mrs.--mrs.----"

"belk, sir," said the woman, seeing that archie was at a loss, "perhaps, sir, you may know my son, samson belk."

"oh, yes! the good-looking bailiff," replied maxwell, carelessly. "is he your son?"

"he is, sir," answered mrs. belk, her heart swelling with pride at hearing the eulogy on her son's good looks. "he was bailiff to sir rupert, but now he is bailiff to the new baronet, sir thomas pethram."

"indeed. i'm very glad his prospects are so good," said archie politely, wondering what all this domestic history had to do with him.

"his prospects ain't good, sir; and that's why i've come up to see you."

"but, my good woman, what can i do?" cried the young man in amazement.

mrs. belk wriggled in her chair, sniffed significantly, and went on talking apparently in a manner most irrelevant to the subject in hand.

"sir thomas," she said, with snappy deliberation, "is a hard man. sir rupert was hard, there's no denying, and my boy--who is proud--didn't get on with being crushed. if sir rupert hadn't died he would have left his service; but as he did die, and sir thomas asked him to stay on--he knowing all the ins and outs of the place--he did so, thinking sir thomas would be a better master."

"and he was disappointed?"

mrs. belk nodded her head emphatically.

"you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear," she said, sententiously; "and that's what sir thomas is. a hard gentleman, sir, who thinks my boy is a slave; so we are going to leave his service."

"but, mrs. belk," observed archie, rather puzzled, "what on earth has all this got to do with me?"

"i'm coming to that, sir," replied the woman, imperturbably; "me and my boy wondered what we'd do when we left sir thomas; for situations, mr. maxwell, are hard to get--especially for poor folks like us."

maxwell nodded an assent, and waited until she came to the reason of her visit.

"in the papers," pursued mrs. belk, with a faint smile of triumph on her pale face, "me and my boy saw that strong men was being exhibited in london, and all the gentry was mad on 'em."

"yes, i believe that is the case. this strong man craze is in all the music-halls."

"my son, sir, is called samson, and he is as strong as a horse."

"yes, i know that," said archie, with the cordial admiration of physical strength which one englishman feels for another. "he is tremendously strong. i've seen him do some wonderful things. well, and your son proposes to come up to london and exhibit his strength."

"yes, sir," said mrs. belk, with a look of triumph; "he does, sir. it's my idea."

"i've no doubt it's a good one. while the craze lasts he may make money; but after----"

"i'll take care of the money, sir," answered mrs. belk, grimly. "he'll make hay while the sun shines, and i'll take care when the sun doesn't shine that we'll have something to live on."

"do you want me to help you in this, then?"

"in a sort of way, sir; but not for nothing."

maxwell smiled.

"really, i don't know what you can do for me."

"you wait, sir, and i'll tell. to git a start in london requires money, and me and my son want fifty pounds to give us a start."

"indeed. i'm afraid i can't advance the money."

"so you say now, sir; but when you know what fifty pounds 'ull buy, perhaps you will."

archie's curiosity was now fully aroused, owing to the significance of her words. there was evidently something important behind all this apparently idle preamble, and he waited with some anxiety as to what she was going to tell him.

"you are engaged to miss pethram, sir, i'm told," said mrs. belk, abruptly.

"yes, i am. what then?" replied maxwell rather haughtily, not liking his private affairs being mentioned by a complete stranger.

mrs. belk bent forward in a mysterious manner, touched him on the knee, then flung herself back in her chair with a searching look.

"has she found out who killed her father?"

"good god!"

maxwell jumped to his feet with an ejaculation, and, one hand grasping the back of his chair, stood looking at the mean figure before him in silent amazement.

"what do you mean?" he demanded in a stifled voice.

the woman carried an obtrusive black leather bag, of no small size, with a metal clasp, and this she shook slowly at him as she replied to his question.

"in here," she said, in her monotonous voice--a voice that neither rose nor fell, but kept on droning constantly in the same dreary monotone--"in here i have something which may lead to the discovery of the criminal."

maxwell gasped. was chance going to reveal the secret which he had been so afraid was a secret for ever? he had been about to go down to deswarth on an apparently hopeless quest, without anything to guide him to a conclusion; and lo! at the very time when he was starting, this woman appeared from the clouds with the asseveration that she knew something which would be a sure guide to the revealing of the mystery.

"in that bag?" he said, mechanically, looking at it in a fascinated fashion. "in that bag?"

with a cry of relief he advanced and stretched out his hands eagerly.

"give it to me! what is it? give it to me?" the woman put the bag behind her back with a frown.

"no," she answered, in the same passionless voice. "nothing for nothing. i have told you what i wanted. give me fifty pounds, and you shall have it."

"but what is it?"

"a clue to the man who committed the murder."

"give it to me at once!"

"certainly--when i get fifty pounds." maxwell reflected. he was not a rich man, and fifty pounds was a great consideration to him. still, in his search he would probably spend that amount, and by giving it to this woman he would perhaps learn the name of the criminal at once, so it would be better to save time by acceding to her demand, and thus arrest the assassin before he had time to leave the country. therefore he made up his mind to give it to her, and secure the evidence she said was in the bag; but first he tried to find out exactly what that evidence was worth.

"do you know who committed the murder?"

"no, i do not. i found something which i think belongs to him, and may lead to his detection. you shall have it for fifty pounds."

"why do you come to me?"

"you are engaged to miss pethram, and it is to your interest to find out who killed her father. besides, you will pay me money. if i went to sir thomas or to sir rupert's solicitor, they would probably refuse to give me a penny, and i want the money for my son."

"if i give you a cheque for fifty pounds you will give me this--this--whatever it is you have in your bag?"

"i will; but i don't like cheques. i'd rather have the money in gold."

"you mistrust me?"

"i don't like cheques," reiterated mrs. belk, doggedly.

maxwell reflected a few moments, then made up his mind what to do, and rang the bell. when the servant who attended to all the chambers in the building entered, he handed him a cheque for fifty pounds, made payable to bearer, and drawn on the piccadilly bank, a branch of which was not far distant.

"take a hansom and cash this at once--gold. will you be long?"

"about ten minutes, sir."

the servant departed, and maxwell turned to mrs. belk, who observed ail these doings with a satisfied smile.

"you see i am treating you fairly," he said quietly; "and when the messenger returns i will place those fifty pounds in your hands."

"very well, sir. in return i will give you what is in here,"

"i do not like this distrust!" cried maxwell, angrily.

"i am a country woman, sir; i know nothing of london ways."

she was evidently obdurate, and there was silence for a few minutes. then archie made another attempt to extract information from her.

"where did you find this--whatever it is?"

"i will tell you, sir, when you have it in your hands."

"do you know to whom it belongs?"

"no, sir."

"it seems to me that i am paying a heavy price for what is of comparatively little value."

"i may be able to tell you something in addition to giving this to you."

"likely to be of service in connection with it?"

"yes, i think so."

"humph! is this clue which you have of value?"

"to you, yes."

"of pecuniary value, i mean?"

"yes, it is valuable."

"then why did you not sell it instead of giving it to me for fifty pounds?"

"sir," said mrs. belk, coldly, "i am an honest woman. the thing is not mine to sell. money obtained dishonestly brings no good luck, and as this money is for my son, i do not wish it to be cursed."

"the fifty pounds i now give you may be the price of a man's blood. you are strangely scrupulous. you will not steal, but you will hang a man."

"if he is guilty he deserves to die. credit rather than blame is mine for handing him over to justice."

maxwell looked curiously at her.

"you speak above your station in life."

"very probably," replied mrs. belk, indifferently. "i have had some education."

this strange dialogue was interrupted by the entrance of the servant, who handed maxwell fifty pounds in gold and then took his departure. the young man placed the money on the table and motioned to mrs. belk.

"count it, please, and see if it is correct."

mrs. belk eagerly advanced towards the table, and dividing the money into tens, counted it rapidly. having done so, she took a small canvas bag out of her pocket and put the gold into it.

"that is all right, sir," she said, with a sigh of relief, opening the black bag. "you have behaved like a gentleman; i have the money i want, and you have in exchange--this."

"this" was a small diamond pin in the shape of a star, with eight points, and maxwell took it in his hand with a sensation that he had seen it before.

"ah!" he said, thoughtfully, turning it over in his hands, "this is the thing i have bought for my fifty pounds."

"yes, sir."

"it is worth about twenty, i should say," said maxwell, resuming his seat. "but doubtless the story attached to it will render it more valuable."

"there is no story, sir," replied mrs. belk, who had placed the gold in her obtrusive black bag. "simply this: i found that on the terrace of the hall on the morning after the murder. it was lying close to the window."

"indeed! and you think----"

"i think that it was dropped by the man who murdered sir rupert."

"how do you know it was a man?"

"that is a gentleman's scarf-pin, sir."

"hah!" cried maxwell, with a sudden start, "i know now where i saw it."

"you saw it, sir?" asked mrs. belk, eagerly.

"yes, on the scarf of the man i----never mind, i may be mistaken. did you tell your son you had found this?"

"no, sir. i wished to surprise him with the money. i have told no one except you."

"i'm glad of that. well, i think i have an idea; but surely he cannot be guilty of the murder."

"who, sir?"

maxwell, who had risen to his feet, looked at her keenly.

"have you any idea of whom i am talking?"

"none in the least, sir."

the young man walked to the other end of the room, then retraced his steps slowly.

"mrs. belk," he said, after a pause, "do you know if there were any strangers in deswarth on the night of the murder?"

"only one, sir. a furriner at the chequers, and he went away next morning."

"do you think he knew sir rupert?"

"i do not know, sir. all i know is that i found that scarf-pin near where the murder was committed. if it belongs to the furriner, he killed sir rupert."

"what was he doing at deswarth?"

"i do not know, sir."

"humph! well, say nothing about this to any one, mrs. belk. i will see you again when i come down to deswarth."

"you are coming down to deswarth, sir?"

"yes, to find out who killed sir rupert."

"i think you'll find him in london, sir," said the woman, with a grim smile, as she stood with her hand on the door. "good-morning, sir."

"good-morning."

maxwell stood a long time looking at the pin.

"yes," he said aloud, "it certainly belongs to that man."

he had seen it in the scarf of ferrari in the morning he met mrs. belswin at the deswarth station.