Rupert looked up, and the surprise he felt must have been clearly reflected on his face, for Mr. Redway exclaimed: "You don’t mean to say that it was you who gave the note to the messenger?" There was a long silence before the lawyer spoke again. "Will you, then, give us Miss Strode’s present address? This is really most important, as she has completely disappeared and left no trace, although the police have been searching for her for the past week." Rupert’s heart gave a great bound. Then she was still safe! "I can answer that question, at least. I don’t know where she is, and have heard nothing of her since I was arrested." Then, after a moment’s hesitation: "I suppose she is utterly disgusted with my crime, and wishes to avoid having her name in any way connected with mine!" Redway rose and touched the bell on the table. "I am sorry you can give us so little help. I shall see you again before the trial, when I hope you will see your way to place a little more confidence in us, otherwise I fear your defence will suffer gravely." The door opened, and the warder escorted Rupert back to his cell. As he reached it, he handed him a letter. The door slammed, and the retreating steps of the warder echoed down the stone-flagged passage. Rupert glanced at the envelope in his hand, and started as he recognised his father’s writing. He sat on the wooden bunk and slowly opened it. The envelope fell to the floor and lay there. He noticed that the post-mark was London, not Princetown. For a moment Dartmoor and the great convict prisons rose before his eyes, and he shuddered at the bare possibility of his being sent there. He began to read the letter: "MY DEAR BOY,—I hardly know how to write these few lines. I have had a great struggle, and from my heart tried to believe you innocent—for how could my son commit this horrible crime? Sir Reginald has been more than kind. He asked me plainly if I believed you did this thing, and I looked him in the face and said ’_No_! It is impossible! He is a true gentleman!’ He shook my hand and said: ’Neither do I; and what’s more, I’ll see he has a fair trial.’ He has written to his lawyers and they are to help you, and he has brought me up to London, and I hope to see you to-morrow. For God’s sake, my dear boy, clear yourself and our good name! For my sake, and your sister’s, help the lawyers to find the man who has put this awful burden upon us. Find him, Rupert, and hunt him down, for unless you do my heart is broken, and I fear ruin faces us—all three. God help you clear our name. "Your affectionate father, "JOHN DALE." The letter fluttered to the floor beside the envelope and Rupert threw himself on the hard bunk and sobbed aloud. Try as he would, great sobs shook his frame. All his resolutions were shattered by this appeal. How could he destroy his father, ruin his sister, and bring desolation and unending shame to his home?