"I cannot say. It was, perhaps, what you call a pot-shot. But he says you are the guilty person and that he will denounce you unless I confess all. I tell him all, as I did not wish you to be arrested, and Mistare Spruce said that he would wait until you married Zara before speaking. Then he expected me to get you to give him two thousand a year for ever." Hench nodded. "Quite so. That is the price he asked for betraying you. And why did he alter his arrangements?" "He grew weary, and then that Bracken--the pig who stole my daughter--told him that he loved Zara and would marry her, as she loved him. And, mark you, Mistare Spruce still says nothing to me. Oh, no. He goes down to you and declares that I am guilty, as only in that way could he get the money. Do you think, Monsieur, that I am blind? Ah, but no. I see it all. You wish your name to be cleared, and you are helped by Mistare Spruce to accuse me. But it is a lie--a lie--a lie!" She rose to stamp furiously. "I am as innocent as you are guilty. You murdered Monsieur Evans to get the money." "Well," said Hench, with a shrug, "it's not much use my denying that I did, as you can only save yourself by believing that I struck the blow. You _had_ a strong case against me," ended Hench, with emphasis. "But now that Spruce has told his story, these Jedd boys who watched you on the night of the murder can prove you to be the assassin." "Ah," sneered Madame Alpenny contemptuously, "it is that silly, insolent, ugly page who accuses me?" "He has not done so yet, but he will when I see him, if what Spruce says is true; and true, Madame, I believe it to be." "Pfui!" She snapped her fingers again. "I did not go to Cookley on that night." "Can you prove that?" Madame Alpenny looked somewhat disconcerted; then a thought seemed to strike her and she burst into a violent rage. "Ah, but you dare to ask me that when you arranged, to save yourself, that I should go to Hampstead on the night." "Go to Hampstead? What are you talking about?" "Your wickedness!" vociferated the woman, beside herself with fury. "I received a letter on the morning of the first of July, asking me to meet the writer at the Ponds in Hampstead, as I would then be told how to get the money of your uncle at once. It was six o'clock I was to meet this person, and----" "Who was the person?" "There was no name signed to the letter, as you well know who wrote it," cried Madame Alpenny indignantly. "And it said also that if the person who wrote was not there I was to wait if it was two or three hours. I go"--she spoke dramatically, in the present tense--"I find no one. I wait and wait and wait; hour and hour and hour I wait. After ten o'clock--yes, and nearer eleven, if I remember--I come back disappointed to this place. I hear no more of the letter or of the person. But you see that I am innocent. Could I be in two places at once, I ask you, Monsieur?" "No. But have you any witness to prove that you were at Hampstead?"