‘He didn’t do it, sir,’ answered the detective decisively. ‘I’d have had it out of him if he had, before you could have known what I was leading up to. I laid every trap for him that could be laid, and if he had done it he must have walked into one of ’em. I should have caught him tripping, depend upon it. But taking the question from a pischological point of view,’ continued Mr. Otranto, who sometimes got hold of a fine word, and gave his own version of it, ‘I tell you it isn’t in his composition to do such a thing.’ ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Lucius, somewhat dejectedly. He left Mr. Otranto’s office only in time to take a hasty dinner at a city eating-house, where huge rounds of boiled beef were dealt out to hungry customers in a somewhat rough-and-ready fashion. He had very little appetite for the ample and economical repast, but ate a little nevertheless, being fully aware of the evil effects of long fasting on an overworked mind and body. This brief collation dispatched, he went straight to Cedar House, to keep his appointment with Mr. Sivewright. CHAPTER IX. THE MYSTERY OF LUCILLE’S PARENTAGE. Lucius paused in the gray old hall, where twilight came sooner than in any other part of the house. He longed to see Lucille, to clasp the dear hand, to hear the low gentle voice; for the excitement of those few busy hours seemed to have lengthened the interval since he had last seen her. Yet he shrank with a strange nervous terror from the idea of meeting her just yet, while his mind was still agitated, still perplexed, by the mystery of last night. It was a relief to him when Mrs. Wincher told him that ‘Missy’ was still lying down in the parlour. ‘She’s been up and down stairs to give her grandpa his beef-tea, and such-like, but has laid down betwigst and betweens,’ said Mrs. Wincher. ‘She don’t seem to have strength to keep up, poor child. I should think some steel-wine, now, or as much quinine-powder as would lie on a sixpence, would do her a world of good.’ ‘We won’t dose her with nauseous medicines, Mrs. Wincher,’ answered Lucius; ‘she wants rest, and change of air and scene. If we could get her away from this melancholy old house, now!’ He was thinking what a relief it would be to him to withdraw her from that abode of perplexity, where danger, in some as-yet-intangible form, seemed to lurk in every shadow. If he could send her down to his sister at Stillmington! He was sure that Janet would be kind to her, and that those two would love each other. If he could but induce Lucille to go down there for a little while!