The girl looked puzzled, but there was no time for further explanations, and the three men, getting into the brougham, were driven off. And Barnby, the principal detective, still continued to watch his prisoner closely, and drew his own conclusions. In his heart of hearts he was thoroughly convinced of the other's guilt; but the pluck and coolness displayed by Roland under the circumstances of his arrest filled him with admiration, for it was unparalleled, even in that astute officer's experience. But oh, the torture of the breaking heart which could smile, and even half jest, at that awful moment! Even at the time when life was at its very sweetest to him, had the sword fallen--and yet not; for had he not been torn away at a moment's notice, nor allowed even a glance of farewell at the sweet face of her who constituted all his world? But for that horrible, jarring calm which he had assumed as a mask, his self-control would have been nowhere. They reached Battisford, and drew up at the gaol. As a magistrate it had frequently been Roland's duty to visit it; consequently his entrance into the gloomy building caused no comment among those who witnessed it now. Even the stolid turnkey was awed on receiving into his keeping one so high among the great ones of the land. To the last the prisoner's coolness did not desert him. He scribbled off a short note. "Watts. Drive round by Wandsborough on your way back and give this to Dr Ingelow; and if he isn't in wait till he is. You needn't call for me, as I shall be engaged here for some hours." And again that mocking laugh lurked in his face. The coachman touched his hat and drove off. Roland Dorrien followed the turnkey to the cell appointed to him. He needed nothing for the present, he said, and so that vigilant guardian, closing the door on him, retired, having respectfully hoped and trusted that he would soon be able to clear himself, as, of course, he easily could. Clear himself? Not he. This was the fate awaiting him, and from it there would be no escape. The wraith on The Skegs had never been known to appear in vain. Here for the first time he dared to think--here, where no eye was upon him. Yesterday, love, happiness, peace--to-day, this! Yesterday, powerful, wealthy, free--the envied of all; to-day, not the meanest loafer in Battisford market-place would change with him. Ah, good God! why had he escaped by a hairsbreadth, as it were, from the deadliest of perils that night on the seashore! Was it for this? Better a thousand times that the wild waves had been his grave--both their graves then. And the cold walls of his stone cell echoed such an anguished and despairing groan as is seldom wrung from the breast of mortal man.