in with his suggestion that the document should be handed over to him. I couldn't do anything else—after what he told me. But as to what he told me—mum is the word, Mr. Craye!—mum! At present."
"Have you any idea what that document is?" I asked, going at last straight to a principal point.
"None!" he replied quickly. "But—I've a very good idea!"
"What, then?" I put it to him. "I'd give a good deal to know."
He glanced round, as if he feared to be overheard, though there was no one near us.
"Well," he said. "Have you heard of an old gentleman named Palkeney, Mr. Matthew Palkeney, of Palkeney Manor, away there in the Midlands, who died some little time ago, leaving money and a fine place and no relatives, and from whose library that copper box and those books were undoubtedly stolen?"
"I've heard of him—and of the rest," I replied.
"Just so," he said. "Well, Mr. Craye, between you and me, it's my belief that the document Mr. Parslewe got from Bicker-
