“I more than forgive you, my young lady. I will say something more; I wish to Heaven I had never touched this business. But, now to proceed. The suspicions I had two months ago led me to place a detective belonging to my own staff on your premises.” “Yes,” said Nance, “you sent Jacob Short, our very excellent footman, down to the Heights. He was a good servant, and for my part, I seldom remembered that he was anything else. But I recall now your words at the time. You said the scent lay red round Rowton Heights. I did not understand you.” “Very likely not,” said Crossley. “Nevertheless, before I proceed any further, allow me to remind you, madam, that I earnestly begged of you to give up the search.” “And I refused to do so,” said Nancy. “We need not revert to that again. I had vowed to go on with the thing—my vow was given to a dying man. I will go on with it to the bitter end.” “Very well, madam, I have now to proceed with my story. Jacob Short went to Rowton Heights and did the work which I had expected him to do. The suspicions which I entertained before he arrived there were abundantly confirmed by evidence which he was able to collect.” Nance came a step nearer. “What do you mean?” she said. “Do you infer,” she moistened her lips, they were so dry she could scarcely get out the words—“do you really infer that the murderer, the man who took the life of my young brother, was really an inmate of Rowton Heights?” The detective nodded. “This is fearful! Who could it be? One of the servants? Surely not Vickers—not Hamley.” “You must have patience, madam; you will know all in a few minutes.” Nance again grasped the back of the chair and stood firm. “You remember,” continued Crossley, looking fixedly at her as he spoke, “the evidence which I had in hand from the beginning. There was found near the body of the murdered man a torn piece of paper, which contained some writing in cipher; at the bottom of the cipher was a hieroglyphic of peculiar shape and size. On the night of the murder, a friend of the murdered man saw a man escaping from the café—a tall, dark, fine-looking man, with a peculiar mark on his upper lip. That man was searched for by the police, but he was not heard of again. On that evidence I had to work up my case. The most important part of the evidence was contained in the torn paper which held the cipher. “After long toil and weeks of labour I became acquainted with the key of the cipher, and was able to read what was written on the torn bit of paper. It was incriminating to the last degree, showing that the murder was premeditated, for it was an appointment to meet your brother at the café where he lost his life. From that day to now my object, madam, has been to find the man who used that cipher and that hieroglyphic. I obtained a certain clue which made me think it probable that I should find him in your house. Yes, Mrs. Rowton, in your house.