"I never went near," said Henderson, huskily. "Ay, stick to that; ye never went near; ye only asked her to go; and one good job is that the old man's pistol was found beside her." "She must have shot herself. My mother will tell them I was in the house all night; I never was out." The groom made no answer to this, and after a few moments' silence Henderson turned sullenly away. There was something in the groom's manner that frightened him; a suppressed insolence and unbelief in the man's tone. And later in the day, as he sat moodily smoking after dinner, he received a message by one of the maids that Jack Reid wished to speak to him. He rose and went to the hall door, where he found the groom. "May I ha' a word wi' ye, sir, about one of the horses?" he said, with a significant look, and Henderson followed him out as he spoke. "It's not about the horses, sir," he continued, as soon as they were a little distance from the house, "but I didn't want any o' the women folk to hear what I have got to say. But the missus mustn't say ye were never out last night. Ben Wood, the carter, saw ye out about half-past eight, and is ready to swear it. But I've sent for ye to say that ye'd best say ye were down at the stables then, and I'll back ye out. Say ye were on yer way to the stables when Ben met ye." "Very well, Jack, you must swear this, or there'll be no end of trouble," answered Henderson. "Ay, trouble enough, anyhow; for, master, I've another word for ye--ye're watched. The police ha' their eye on ye, and ye'll not go in or out of the house now unless they know." CHAPTER XI. A SILENT WITNESS. Tom Henderson returned to the house after this last interview with his groom in a truly pitiable state of terror and alarm. And a man, a stranger, passed him in the avenue. This was no doubt one of his watchers; his footsteps were dogged; he was a free agent no more. He turned cold and shuddered when he thought of it. Dread visions rose before him, and the terrible penalty of his crime grimly haunted his mind. As he entered the house he suddenly remembered the coat he had worn the day before, when he had gone to meet the hapless Elsie. He had cut out and burnt the stained sleeve, but what if the house was searched and the coat discovered in its--as he supposed--present condition? No, it must be destroyed entirely, he told himself. But how to do this? If he burnt it the smell of the burning cloth would spread through the house. He would bury it in the garden somewhere, he finally decided; but he must wait to do this; must be sure that no one was loitering about, spying his actions.