"You see," said Sir Francis, "she knows all, and dare not approach to tell it. That there is some fearful mystery here, I feel more and more convinced; but, doubtless, in God's good time all will be brought to light." He rose as he spoke, and approached Janet, who shrank from him more and more, waving her hand to keep him off her, and each moment growing more frightened and hysterical. "Come, my friends," said Sir Francis, drawing back with a bitter sigh, as he saw the uselessness of pressing inquiry in Janet's case, "let us go. Constable, you will sift this matter to the very bottom." The sergeant nodded shortly, and Sir Francis turned towards the door; but Patty flew to him, and caught one of his hands. "Oh, sir!" she cried, "can you not believe me? Indeed, indeed, I have spoken the truth. Your son did come many times, I know; but I hate him," she cried, naively. "I would not, though, nor would any one here, hurt a hair of his head. We could not help his coming; and if he were here on that Tuesday night, I did not see him when I came. I am sorry-- indeed I am; and I pity you from the bottom of my heart, for we have our feelings even as you rich people have." "But not feeling enough to ease a poor old man's heart," said Sir Francis, coldly, as thrusting her back, he took another step towards the door. "He does not believe me--he does not believe me!" sobbed Patty, clasping her hands together, and then, excitedly, she exclaimed--"Does no one believe what I say?" "I do, Miss Pellet, from my soul," exclaimed a deep voice, and, stepping forward, Harry Clayton caught her clasped hands in his, as the young girl joyfully met his gaze. But this was but for a moment; the next instant had hardly passed before her eyes fell, she hastily drew back her hands, and, with a heavy sigh, she shrank back to where Janet cowered in her chair, and stayed there until, one by one, the others went out, leaving the two friends the sole occupants of the room. "Are they all gone?" whispered Janet at last, from where she had hidden her face in Patty's breast. "Yes; all--all," said the agitated girl. "I could not bear to look at the suffering old man," said Janet, huskily. "It seemed to me as if he would be able to read in my face all that I felt, and so I acted like a frightened child, and he must have looked upon me as almost an idiot. But it is very horrible, Patty; and I seem to see the poor boy always before my eyes, with his white forehead all dabbled in blood, and his face pale and ghostlike. I dream of him so every night, and I know I feel as if something dreadful had happened. But what does it all mean?" "Oh, hush--oh, hush!" said Patty; while Mrs Winks, who had just returned, buried her face in her apron, and seating herself upon the floor, as more lowly than a chair, she rocked herself to and fro, in the true sympathy she felt for the distressed girls.