"What I say, sir; I must not be seen talking to you. On no account must we two be seen together. I have come up to London unbeknown to anybody, because it is necessary for me to tell you something, and to ask you--to ask you--Oh, my God!" continued Hetty, raising her eyes skyward as she spoke, "how am I to tell him?" She turned white to her lips now; she trembled from head to foot. "Sir," she continued, "there's some one who suspects." "Suspects?" said Awdrey, knitting his brows, "Suspects what? What have suspicious people to do with me? You puzzle me very much by this extraordinary talk. Are you quite well yourself? I recall now that you always were a mysterious little thing; but you are greatly changed, Hetty." He turned and gave her a long look. "I know I am, sir, but that don't matter now. I did not run this risk to talk about myself. Mr. Robert, there's one living who suspects." "Come home with me and tell me there," said Awdrey--he was conscious of a feeling of irritation, otherwise Hetty's queer words aroused no emotion of any sort within him. "I cannot go home with you, sir--I came up to London at risk to myself in order to warn you." "Of what--of whom?" "Of Mrs. Everett, sir." "Mrs. Everett! my wife's friend!--you must have taken leave of your sense. See, we are close to the Green Park; if you won't come to my house, let us go there. Then you can tell me quickly what you want to say." Awdrey motioned to Hetty to follow him. They crossed the road near Hyde Park Corner, and soon afterward were in the shelter of the Green Park. "Now, speak out," said the Squire. "I cannot stay long with you, as I want to take my little son for his customary walk. What extraordinary thing have you to tell me about Mrs. Everett?" "Mr. Robert, you may choose to make light of, but in your heart ... there, I'll tell you everything. Mrs. Everett was down at Grandcourt lately--she was stopping at uncle's inn in the village. She walked out one day to the Plain--by ill-luck she met me on her road. She got me to show her the place where the murder was committed. I stood just by the clump of elders where--but of course you have forgotten, sir. Mrs. Everett stood with me, and I showed her the very spot. I described the scene to her, and showed her just where the two men fought together." The memory of his dream came back to Awdrey. He was very quiet now--his brain was quite alert. "Go on, Hetty," he said. "Do you know this interests me vastly. I have been troubled lately with visions of that queer murder. Only last night I had one. Now why should such visions come to one who knows nothing whatever about it?" "Well, sir, they do say----" "What?" "It is the old proverb," muttered Hetty. "'Murder will out.'"