"What I say is plain: George Heneage, the murderer of your ward, the indirect murderer of your wife, is in concealment at Chandos," said Mrs. Penn, rather tragically. "The mysteries of that west wing have been cleared to me. Anne Hereford penetrated to it yesterday for some purpose of her own, and saw him: an emaciated being she described him, bearing a striking resemblance to Harry Chandos. Now what do you say to my having entered the house as a detective, Mr. Edwin Barley? And it is for having pursued my investigations that Mr. Chandos has turned me forth in in this ignominious manner." Mr. Edwin Barley drew in his lips. She said not a word, be it understood, of the illegitimate mode in which she had pursued the said investigation. He turned matters rapidly over in his mind, and then addressed the policeman. "What were you intending to do with this lady?" "Our orders were to see her into your house, sir. Nothing more." "My mission in this part of the world is over," interrupted Mrs. Penn; "I shall leave it for London this afternoon. Until then, say for an hour or two, I shall be glad to find a shelter in your house, Mr. Edwin Barley." "Very good. After that you are at liberty, I presume, to take orders from me?" he added to the officers. And they signified they were if he had any to give. "You can then follow me to Chandos. Stay outside the house, and be ready to obey the signal I shall give you. Be prepared to take into custody a criminal who has been evading the law for years, and who will probably make a desperate resistance. What do you say? No warrant? Nonsense. I am in the commission of the peace, and will absolve you of any consequences." Laying his gun and birds on the top of the luggage, Mr. Edwin Barley turned to Chandos. The policemen, who had not the remotest intention of quitting their prisoner until they had seen her within Mr. Barley's doors continued their way thither. Thus it happened: and the voice of Edwin Barley demanding to see Lady Chandos greeted my dismayed ears as I crossed the hall. Why he should have asked for Lady Chandos, he himself best knew: the demand was an imperative one. "My lady cannot be seen, sir," was the reply of Hickens. "She is better, I hear; but she is not yet out of her rooms. Sir Harry is within." "Who do you say is within?" cried Mr. Edwin Barley, probably thinking his ears might deceive him. "Sir Harry Chandos." "Sir Harry," repeated Mr. Edwin Barley, wondering doubtless whether Hickens had lost his senses. "What do you mean by calling him that." "I call him nothing but what's right, sir. He is Sir Harry now, unfortunately: that is unfortunately for poor Sir Thomas. News came this morning, sir, that Sir Thomas has been killed in battle. We have got the house shut up for him."