"I know the proverb, but I don't understand your application," replied Awdrey, but he looked thoughtful. "If you were troubled with these bad visions or dreams I should not be surprised," he continued, "for you really witnessed the thing. By the way, as you are here, perhaps you can help me. I lost my stick at the time of the murder, and never found it since. I would give a good deal to find it. What is that you say?" "You'll never find it, sir. Thank the good God above, you'll never find it." "I am glad that you recognize the loss not to be a trifle. Most people laugh when I speak of anything so trivial as a stick. You say I shall never find it again--perhaps so. The forgetting it so completely troubles me, however. Hetty, I had a bad dream last night--no, it was not really a dream, it was a vision. I saw that murder--I witnessed the whole thing. I saw the dead man, and I saw the back of the man who committed the murder. I tried hard, but I could not get a glimpse of his face. I wanted to see his face badly. What is the matter, girl? How white you look." "Don't say another word, sir. I have borne much for you and for your people, but there are limits, and if you say another word, I shall lose my self-control." "I am sorry my talk has such an effect upon you, Hetty. You don't look too happy, my little girl. Your face is old--I hope your husband is good to you." "He is as good as I deserve, Mr. Awdrey. I never had any love to give him--he knew that from the first. He married me five years ago because I was pretty, and Aunt Fanny thought I'd best be married--she thought it would make things safer--but it is a mistake to marry when your heart is given to another." "Ah yes, poor Frere--you were in love with him, were you not?" "No, sir, that I was not." "I forgot--it was with Everett--poor girl, no wonder you look old." Awdrey gave Hetty a weary glance--his attention was already beginning to flag. "It was not with Mr. Everett," whispered Hetty in a low tone which thrilled with passion. Awdrey took no notice. His apathy calmed her, and saved her from making a terrible avowal. "I'll just tell you what I came to say and then leave you, sir," she said in a broken voice. "It is all about Mrs. Everett. She stood with me close to the alders, and I described the scene of the murder and how it took place, and all of a sudden she looked me in the eyes and said something. She said that Mr. Horace Frere was the man who was murdered--but the man who committed the murder was not her son, Mr. Everett. She spoke in an awful sort of voice, and said she knew the truth--she knew that her son was innocent. Oh, sir, I got so awfully frightened--I nearly let the truth out." "You nearly let the truth out--the truth? What do you mean?" "Mr. Robert, is it possible that you do not know?" "I only know what all the rest of the world knows--that Everett is guilty."