"When I was round there, at Number Seven, this morning," observed Miss
Penkridge, "those two talked very freely to me about Mr. Ashton. Now,
there's one thing struck me at once--there must be men in London who knew
him. He couldn't go out and about, as he evidently did, without meeting
men. Even if it wasn't in business, he'd meet men somewhere. And if I
were you, I should invite men who knew him to come forward and tell what
they know."

"It shall be done--very good advice, ma'am," said Mr. Pawle.

"And there's another thing," said Miss Penkridge. "I should find out what
can be told about Mr. Ashton where he came from. I believe you can get
telegraphic information from Australia within a few hours. Why not go to
the expense--when there's so much at stake? Depend upon it, the real
secret of this murder lies back in the past--perhaps the far past."

"That too shall be done," agreed Mr. Pawle. "I shouldn't be surprised if
you're right."

"In my opinion," remarked Miss Penkridge, dryly, "the robbing of this
dead man was all a blind. Robbery wasn't the motive. Murder was the thing
in view! And why? It may have been revenge. It may be that Ashton had to
be got out of the way. And I shouldn't wonder a bit if that isn't at the
bottom of it, which is at the top and bottom of pretty nearly
everything!"

"And that, ma'am?" asked Mr. Pawle, who evidently admired Miss
Penkridge's shrewd observations, "that is what, now?"