"I suppose we may now finally give up all expectation of ever seeing my poor son's murderer brought to the bar of justice."
"For my part, madam, I cannot go so far as to admit that," replied Fanny. "One never can tell from day to day what clue may turn up, or what important fact be brought to light, perhaps from a quarter the least expected, or in a way the most surprising and unthought of. I have read of cases as apparently unfathomable as that of Mr. Melray, which time has unravelled after its own fashion, and after those most experienced in such matters had given them up as hopeless."
"Let us trust, my dear, that it may prove so in my son's case; but every day that passes tends to make it more unlikely."
"If one could only discover by what motive Mr. Melray was influenced, or what particular object he had in view, in coming back to his office after having set out for the house of Mr. Arbour, we should, I think, lay our hands on a very important clue. I suppose there was nothing found among Mr. Melray's papers bearing on that feature of the affair?"
"So far as I am aware, nothing. Mr. Cray had the going through of my son's papers, and had there been anything of the kind among them he would surely not have overlooked it. Not only was he closely questioned at the inquest, which was twice adjourned, but, later on, he had more than one private interview with the officer from Scotland Yard who had the case specially in hand. No man, however, could have been more entirely bewildered and nonplussed than he was. Again and again he declared that, as far as his knowledge went, his master had not an enemy in the world--no, not a single enemy, but a thousand friends!"
"I presume," said Fanny, "there was nothing found on Mr. Melray's person after death--no letter, or memorandum of any kind--which would serve to throw even a glimmer of light on the events of the 18th of September?"
"Mine were the hands that emptied my son's pockets of their contents after death," said the mother with a thin quaver in her voice. "Of course she--his wife, I mean--was supposed to be too much overcome to think of anything. I knew that James was in the habit of carrying a pocket-book, and it seemed to me that there might perhaps be entries in it which it would be as well that no strange eyes should read. Accordingly I took possession of it, and it has never been out of my keeping since that time."