"What are you attempting to suggest?" Marsh asked, his face pale, either with fear or anger.
"I suggest that you know why Miss Wickham went to Mr. Seligmann and that it was upon some matter which concerned yourself."
"Then you know that he was a different man, according to his company. You may only have seen the decent side of him, but he was a blood-sucker of the worst description."
"So he had you in his money-lending hands, had he?"
"He had. Morally, I had paid my debt, but a legal quibble kept me in his power, and he refused to give up certain papers of mine."
"Which you had no right to part with, I presume," said Quarles.
"Miss Wickham said she had some influence with Seligmann," Marsh went on, taking no notice of the professor's remark, "and said she would try and get the papers back."
"You didn't expect Seligmann to give them up for nothing?"
"He wanted her to go on tour, I believe, instead of bringing her out in town, as he had half promised to do."
"It was natural perhaps that your future wife should be willing to make a sacrifice for your sake."
"It was hardly a sacrifice. She is not good enough for the London stage. Besides, I am not engaged to her. Friendship is----"
"I warrant she considers herself engaged to you."
"Of course not," said the professor, "but you were glad enough to get the papers. May I look at the envelope they came in?"
"I destroyed it," Marsh replied to my utter astonishment.
"That is a pity. If Miss Wickham says she did not get those papers, it will be awkward for you. Could you swear the writing on the envelope was hers?"
"And you think she murdered Seligmann to get them?"
"I am not to be trapped into admitting anything of the sort."
"As you will, Mr. Marsh. For my part, I expect this affair will open Miss Wickham's eyes to your--your true worth."
And Quarles took up his hat and walked out of the room. I followed him. In the street he took off his glasses and put them in his pocket. They were the same he had worn that morning--a pair he did not often use.
"The Honorable Percival Marsh is a worm," he remarked.
"There is no necessity to see her," said Quarles. "I dare say it is true what this worm says. She went to offer her talent cheap to Seligmann on condition that he would give her the papers. I can guess what happened. They talked over the bargain, but Seligmann refused to do what she wanted, and was able, probably, to show her that Marsh was a worthless scoundrel. Unless something of this sort had happened she would have written to Marsh to tell him she had been unsuccessful. I have little doubt Seligmann treated her in a fatherly manner, and then let her out through the garden, perhaps because he found the light in the hall was out. He returned to find--I am not sure yet what it was he found in his study, but nothing to alarm him, I am sure. To-morrow we will go to Maidenhead, Wigan, and see what servants are at the cottage."