"Oh, I don't know. If he could without being found out, I am certain he would. I don't say Van Zwieten fired the shot himself, but he might have hired some one to do it." "What makes you think that, Wilfred?" "Well, I was talking to the station-master at Chippingholt. He said that a man in a dark overcoat with a soft hat pulled over his eyes went to Langton Junction by the 10:30 train--the last train on that night. Van Zwieten saw him off at the station. He was seen to follow the man to the compartment and put his head through the window. There was evidently an understanding between them. Now you know, Brenda, few strangers come to Chippingholt, for there is nothing to see there. It was odd, to say the least of it, that Van Zwieten should have seen this fellow off. Moreover, he just left after the murder was committed." "I don't see though how you are justified from this in thinking that either Van Zwieten or the other man is implicated in the murder," said Brenda after a pause. "They might simply have met on business." "What sort of business?" "I can't say, I am not in Mr. van Zwieten's confidence." Wilfred's eyes flashed. "I wish I was!" he said emphatically. "I believe the fellow is a Boer spy!" "I thought so too, and I told him so." "What did he say?" "He denied it. Wilfred, did any one see the face of this stranger?" "No. He kept his coat collar turned up, and his hat well over his eyes. Why?" "Nothing, I was only wondering." Brenda dreaded lest she should hear that the stranger was he who so closely resembled her father. She wondered, too, whether it was possible her father could have assisted this man to escape after he had shot Mr. Malet, for that the crime had been committed by the same man who wore the black crape scarf seemed conclusively proved by the presence of that piece of it in the victim's hand. "I intend to keep a pretty close watch on Mr. van Zwieten," went on Wilfred. "In fact, that is why I have come up to town. If, as I suspect, he is a spy, the authorities must know of it. In the event of hostilities breaking out between this country and the Transvaal, he would of course be arrested at once." "But you cannot prove his complicity in this matter, Wilfred?" "I intend to have a shot at it any way," replied the young man, grimly. "But come, Brenda, here we are at Victoria. Let me put you in a hansom." "Do come and see me, Wilfred. I'm at Mrs. St. Leger's." "Thanks; I will. I may ask you to help me too in my pursuit of this Dutchman." "How you seem to hate Mr. van Zwieten, Wilfred," she exclaimed. "Have you any especial reason to dislike him?" "I hate him because he is the enemy of my country."