“Indeed!” said Mr. Lightwood, smiling. “Unfortunately I, as Miss Monk’s legal adviser, must have a say in the matter. Doubtless this marriage would be a very pretty arrangement for keeping the late Colonel Monk’s fortune and property in your possession, but I cannot conscientiously approve of the young lady’s marriage to an _assassin_.” “An assassin!--what--what do you mean?” gasped Monk, staggering as if from a blow. “Tell him, Mr. Marshall.” “All right, sir. Well, you see, Mr. Monk of Monkshurst,” continued the detective, grimly yet playfully, “you’re accused of making away with--murdering, in fact--a young gentleman who came to Aberglyn a few weeks ago in that little house on wheels; and this nice friend of yours,” (here he again slapped William Jones on the shoulder) “is accused of being your accomplice.” “No, no. I never done it! I’m innocent, I am!” cried William Jones. “Tell ’em, Mr. Monk, tell ’em--I’d nowt to do with it.” “Silence, you fool,” said the other; then he added, turning on his accusers, “You are a couple of madmen, I think! I know nothing of the young man you speak of! I have heard that he is missing, that is all; but there is no evidence that any harm has come to him, for his body has not been found.” Here Marshall turned with a wink to William Jones, and nudged him in the ribs. “Don’t you think now,” he asked, “it might be worth while looking for it in _that little underground parlour_ of yours, down alongside the sea?” William Jones uttered a despairing groan, and fell on his knees. “I’m ruined!” he cried. “Oh, Mr. Monk, it’s your doing! Lord help me! They knows everything.” “Curse you, hold your tongue!” said Monk, with a look of mad contempt and hatred. “These men are only playing upon your fears, but they cannot frighten _me._” “No?” remarked the detective, lighting his cigar, which had gone out. “I think we shall even manage _that_ in time.” As he spoke he carelessly, and as if inadvertently, drew out a pair of steel handcuffs, which he looked at reflectively, threw up and caught underhand in the air. “You accuse me of assassination?” said Monk, trembling violently. “I warn you to beware, for I will not suffer such accusations without seeking redress. If you have any proof of the truth of your preposterous charge, produce it.” At this moment Matt, looking bright as sunshine, leaped out of the caravan. “There’s my proof,” said Marshall. “Miss Monk, this amiable bridegroom of yours denies being concerned in harming Mr. Charles Brinkley. Is he telling the truth?” Matt’s face darkened, and she looked at Monk with eyes of cordial detestation. “No,” she said, “he’s lying!” “Matt,” cried Monk fiercely, “take care!” “He’s lying,” she repeated, not heeding him. “I see him do it with my own two eyes, and I see William Jones helping him and looking on. They thought that no one was nigh, but _I_ was. I was hiding behind them sacks and barrels in the cave!” * * * * *