"Very well, sir, I'll hold to that. Who else could it have been? I thought I'd tell you, Mr. Awdrey. I thought you'd like to know that I'd hold to that. When the steps of the murderer died away, I stole back to Mr. Frere, and I tried to bring him back to life, but he was as dead as a stone. I left him and I went home. I got back to my room about four in the morning. Not a soul knew I was out; no one knows it now but you, sir. I thought I'd come and tell you, Mr. Robert, that I'd hold to the story that it was Mr. Everett who committed the murder. Good-night, sir." "Good-night, Hetty. You'll have to tell my father what you have told me, in the morning." "Very well, sir, if you wish it." Hetty turned and walked slowly back toward the village, and Awdrey stood where the four roads met and watched her. For a moment or two he was lost in anxious thought--then he turned quickly and walked home. He entered the house by the same side entrance by which he had come in on the previous night. He walked down a long passage, crossed the wide front hall, and entered the drawing-room where his sister Ann was seated. "Is that you, Bob?" she said, jumping up when she saw him. "I'm so glad to have you all to myself. Of course, you were too busy with Margaret to take any notice of us all day, but I've been dying to hear your account of that awful tragedy. Sit here like a dear old fellow and tell me the story." "Talk of women and their tender hearts," said Awdrey, with irritation. Then the memory of Margaret came over him and his face softened. Margaret, whose heart was quite the tenderest thing in all the world, had also wished to hear of the tragedy. "To tell the truth, Ann," he said, sinking into a chair by his sister's side, "you can scarcely ask me to discuss a more uncongenial theme. Of course, the whole thing will be thoroughly investigated, and the local papers will be filled with nothing else for weeks to come. Won't that content you? Must I, too, go into this painful subject?" Ann was a very good-natured girl. "Certainly not, dear Bob, if it worries you," she replied; "but just answer me one question. Is it true that you met the unfortunate man last night?" "Quite true. I did. We had a sort of quarrel." "Good gracious! Why, Robert, if you had been out late last night they might have suspected you of the murder." Awdrey's face reddened. "As it happens, I went to bed remarkably early," he said; "at least, such is my recollection." As he spoke he looked at his sister with knitted brows. "Why, of course, don't you remember, you said you were dead beat. Dorothy and I wanted you to sing with us, but you declared you were as hoarse as a raven, and went off to your bedroom immediately after supper. For my part, I was so afraid of disturbing you that I wouldn't even knock when I pushed that little note about Margaret under the door."