"Then I think he must be dead. Or perhaps he has kept out of the country. Mr. Edwin Barley said at the time that he would bring him to justice, were it years and years to come." "Mr. Edwin Barley was excessively bitter against him. He, Barley, succeeded to Philip King's fine property. Were I on the jury when George Heneage was brought to trial, I should require strong proof—stronger than brought, Edwin Barley's word—ere I convicted him." "Mr. Edwin Barley did not shoot him," I said, gravely. "I do not accuse him; I feel sure he did not. But there were one or two private doubts entertained upon the matter; I can tell you that, Anne. He was suspiciously eager in his accusations of George Heneage!" "Think of his provocation! Selina and George Heneage had both lived only to provoke him; and people said he was really attached to Philip King." "Good arguments, Anne. I believe I am unjust in all that relates to Edwin Barley." "But why should you be, Mr. Chandos? Don't you think it must have been George Heneage who did the murder?" "I beg you will not use that ugly word, Anne. My full and firm belief is that it was an accident—nothing more." "Then why should George Heneage stay away?" "A natural question. Of course we cannot answer for what George Heneage does or does not do. Were he to appear in England, Mr. Edwin Barley would instantly cause him to be apprehended; there's no doubt of that; innocent or guilty, he must stand his trial; and to some men that ordeal would be just as bad as conviction. Besides, he might not be able to prove that it was but an accident; I think he would not be; and, failing that proof, he would be condemned. In saying this, I am not seeking to defend George Heneage." "Did you ever see George Heneage, Mr. Chandos?" "Yes." "Perhaps you knew him?" He made no reply; but rose from his seat and began to pace the room. "About that will of Mrs. Edwin Barley's, Anne?" he presently asked. "Did her husband destroy it?" If I had thought so as a child, and thought so still, it was not possible for me to say it; but Mr. Chandos had acquired a habit of reading what I hesitated to speak. "I see; you think it better not to avow dangerous doctrines." "Indeed, I should be grieved to know that he really took it. Its disappearance was very strange." "You don't think he took it; you only had an instinct that way. But, Anne, your instincts are generally true ones. Mr. Barley has the character of being a hard, grasping man, loving money better than anything else in the world, except the bringing to punishment of George Heneage. He could not bear for the little trifle to go beside him; compared to his large property, it was but what a drop of water is to the wide ocean. He did not want it, you did; you have but little." "I have nothing, nothing but what I earn. Mamma sunk for my education the trifle of money she had saved." "But—the daughter of Colonel Hereford ought to enjoy a pension," he debated, stopping short in his walk.