"We were followed, and our conversation overheard that night in the churchyard. I knew it was dangerous, Jabez, I told you so. Mrs. Darrow hated me. It was she who did it. She listened to everything hidden away somewhere. She taxed me to my face with being implicated in the murder of Mr. Barton and the theft of his will. So I thought it best to go straight to Inspector Prince at Southampton, and put the whole thing before him. I told him how I had met you, and even what you had said--that you would kill Mr. Barton if he interfered with you. I knew _she_ would make capital out of that. But I made it quite clear to him that you had had no provocation from Mr. Barton, and of course from the description I gave of you I knew they were not very likely to find you." "You don't believe I killed him, Miriam?" "No, dear, I never did. But that woman heard you say you would." "Yes; if he had interfered with me I believe I would, but he didn't. I never thought any more about him till I saw the account of the affair in the papers." "You did go back to London, then?" "Yes; you got the letter I wrote you from the Docks?" "I did; but a day or two afterwards I saw you on the platform at Southampton Station. Don't deny it, Jabez; I know it was you!" "Why should I deny it? As a matter of fact, I missed the boat I intended working my way out in. She swung out on the early morning tide, after they had told me she wouldn't be leaving till the evening. So I got back to Southampton as sharp as I could, and booked a steerage berth on one of the Union boats. But about the murder of that old man, Miriam, I swear to you I know absolutely nothing." "I believe you, Jabez. Nevertheless, in the face of the evidence, and your--your past history, it might go badly with you for all that if they were to catch you. Oh dear, I am perfectly terrified when I think of it! Good Heavens, what's that? I'm so nervous I can hardly contain myself this morning." They could hear the front door open and someone enter the hall. "Quick, it's Gerald, I expect--my husband. What is it you call yourself?--Harry Maxwell? Very well, remember we are old friends." He nodded, and took a seat with his back to the window. The door opened to admit not Gerald Arkel but Major Dundas. Smart and well-groomed as ever, he came forward and shook Miriam by the hand. "My wife and I are up in town for a few days with Dicky," he said, "so I just dropped in to ask you when she might bring the boy round, Mrs. Arkel; he is so anxious to see you again." "Dear little fellow--I shall love to see him. But let me introduce Mr. Maxwell--my friend, Major Dundas." The two men turned towards each other. As their eyes met Jabez winced, and a puzzled expression came across the Major's face. "Surely," he said, "I can't help thinking we have met before, Mr. Maxwell, I seem to know your face, I----"