"For God's sake not so loud! Such an adventure!" he panted. "Set upon by two ruffians in a lonely part of the road. One of 'em I managed to knock over with a lefthander--then took to my heels. If I hadn't they'd have bludgeoned my brains out. Two to one, you know." "What a narrow escape for you! But what has become of your hat?" "I've not lost it, have I?" he gasped, while a great terror leapt into his eyes. "If so, I'm lost too!" A moment later his expression changed. "What a fool I am!" he exclaimed with a ghastly attempt at a smile. "I've got it all the while. It fell off while I was running and as the rascals were not far behind me I made a dash at it and crammed it into one of my pockets. It will look a pretty object to-morrow, _sans doute_. But now to bed, for I'm dog-tired." "Shall I send you up some hot water and----" "Curse it all, no! I want no eye but yours to see me to-night." He glared at her for a moment as if he was about to strike her. Then with a shrug and a sudden dropping of his hands, he said. "Forgive me, Onny, I'm not myself to-night." And with that he passed her and went swiftly upstairs, and presently she heard the key turned in the lock of his room. It was the recollection of this scene which shook her with such a terrible fear this afternoon. What had her brother meant by saying that if his hat were lost he was lost too? Supposing he had lost it and it had afterwards been found, what then? And why had he been so anxious that no eyes save hers should see him on his return? Was there any truth in the story of his encounter with the two men? But, above all, had he had any hand in last night's tragedy? That he was utterly unscrupulous she had long known, and she divined, without knowing, that in his nature there were dark unsounded depths in which the most ghastly secret might be hidden up forever. She was only too well aware by what desperate reasons her brother was urged to wish Dinkel out of the way. To him it might, and most likely would, mean all the difference between salvation and ruin. She waited his coming with a quaking heart. She was sitting in a mixed light, that of the dying afternoon and that thrown out by the glowing embers on the hearth, when he entered the room. Having shut the door, he stood there with the handle in his hand, without advancing. "Well, have you heard the news?" he asked abruptly in a high, harsh voice, very different from his usual smooth cultivated tones. "Dinkel's dead--shot through the heart last night, presumably when on his way back from Stanbrook. Body found early this morning by some hedgers on their way to work. What will happen now, I wonder? There's the rub, both for you and me." "I had already heard. The Tuxford carrier brought the news about an hour ago." "Had I known that I needn't have hurried back, as I did, on purpose to tell you. But no matter." "Have any traces of the--the perpetrator of the crime been discovered, or have they any idea where to look for him?"