"You're offer is certainly rather tempting, Mrs."
"Netherall," she interrupted.
"Well, Mrs. Netherall," I said, "I hardly yet understand why you are so very anxious to rid yourself of the boy."
I wanted to learn the whole story.
"I require your assistance, doctor, and I'm prepared to pay for it," replied the crafty old woman, whose keen, dark eyes glittered with evil in the candle-light. "I know that you were called in by the police when they found young Wray. It was a master-stroke of old Otto's. The police believed it to be a case of suicide in order to avoid arrest."
"But there were circumstances which might easily have aroused suspicion," I pointed out.
"A meal had been eaten at this table, and the remains left. Why?"
"Old Heinrich laughed at the police. He typed the letter, and posted it himself. He always declared that the police were idiots, and was fond of proving it."
"But the advertisements. Who was 'Riddle?'"
"A riddle of his own creation. He invented it in order to mystify and mislead the police."
