"Hush!" said Mr. Dare. Carrying a candle, he went up to Herbert's room, his heart aching. That Herbert could sleep through the noise was surprising; and yet, not much so. His room was more remote from the house than were the other rooms, and looked towards the back. But, had he slept through it? When Mr. Dare went in, he was sitting up in bed, awaking, or pretending to awake, from sleep. The window, thrown wide open, may have contributed to deaden any sound in the house. "Can you sleep through this, Herbert?" cried Mr. Dare. Herbert stared, and rubbed his eyes, and stared again, as one bewildered. "Is that you, father?" he presently cried. "What is it?" "Herbert," said his father, in low tones of pain, of dread; "what have you been doing to your brother?" Herbert, as if not understanding the drift of the question, stared more than ever. "I have done nothing to him," he presently said. "Do you mean Anthony?" "Anthony is lying on the dining-room floor killed--murdered. Herbert, _who did it_?" Herbert Dare sat motionless in bed, looking utterly lost. That he could not understand, or was affecting not to understand, was evident. "Anthony is--what do you say, sir?" "He is dead; he is _murdered_," replied Mr. Dare. "Oh, my son, my son, say you did not do it! for the love of heaven, say you did not do it!" And the unhappy father burst into tears and sank down on the bed, utterly unmanned. CHAPTER III. ACCUSED. The grey dawn of the early May morning was breaking over the world--over the group gathered in Mr. Dare's dining-room. That gentleman, his surviving sons, a stranger, a constable or two; and Sergeant Delves, who had been summoned to the scene. Sundry of the household were going in and out, of their own restless, curious accord, or by summons. The sergeant was making inquiries into the facts and details of the evening. Anthony Dare--as may be remembered--had sullenly retired to his room, refusing to go out when the message came to him from Lord Hawkesley. It appeared, by what was afterwards learnt, that he, Anthony Dare, had made an appointment to meet Hawkesley and some other men at the Star-and-Garter hotel, where Lord Hawkesley was staying; the proposed amusement of the evening being cards. Anthony Dare remained in his chamber, solacing his chafed temper with brandy-and-water, until the waiter from the Star-and-Garter appeared a second time, bearing a note. This note Sergeant Delves had found in one of the pockets, and had it now open before him. It ran as follows:-- "DEAR DARE,--We are all here waiting, and can't make up the tables without you. What do you mean by shirking us? Come along, and don't be a month over it.--Yours, "HAWKESLEY."