At first he seemed unable to speak, and stood looking at the crowd with his grave eyes moist with emotion; then he said: “I thank you--I thank you with all my heart for your kindness. I think that many of you believed in my innocence----” “All of us! All of us!” some one shouted. “You’re a nobleman all round, that’s what you are, my lord!” “What I have done, any man placed as I was would have done--yes, every man worthy the name of man. And now will you go home quietly, my friends, remembering how dark and heavy a trouble hangs over those both you and I--love?” “That we will; we’ll do anything you ask us, my lord,” shouted the same man, and the crowd began slowly and reluctantly to melt away. Colonel Summerford sprang up the steps, and held out his hand. “Thank God, thank God, my lord!” he said, and his strong voice trembled. “I can never be too grateful that I believed in you all through.” “And I,” said Mr. McAndrew, quietly. “I’m afraid your lordship thinks I was rough on you in letting the case go so far. But what was I to do?” “You did your duty--I am sure,” said Lord Clydesfold, holding out his hand. Mr. McAndrew took it respectfully. “You see, my lord, I had my doubts from the first. The very first time I saw Bradstone in the squire’s library I felt--well, we detectives have our presentiments like other people. But what could I do? I knew you would stand firm and bear the brunt to the last, and I could only wait and hunt up evidence; and it was difficult work. It was all so strong against you; and Bradstone was clever and cunning. If it hadn’t been for the gypsy Seth tracking him down and getting the check I should have been driven hard. If it hadn’t been for the confession, indeed, I wouldn’t have answered for the case even now!” “And he is dead?” said Lord Clydesfold in a low voice. Mr. McAndrew nodded gravely. “Yes; they found him as the constable said. He must have fallen across the table almost the moment Seth left the room with the check. Heart disease. The strain that man must have endured--without food, and drinking continually--must have been a perfect hell. And to think that he committed the murder without any real reason. Ah, she was a wonderful woman, and deceived you both. If Bradstone can know what is going on, and is conscious that she was not his wife after all, and that he might have been living still----” He stopped and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I could almost pity him. Not that he deserves it, my lord, for he was a bad lot. He fairly trapped that poor young lady; got his net round her father, unbeknown to him, and fairly drove her to marry him. When I tell you all we’ve discovered you’ll be surprised, my lord.” “He is dead now,” said Lord Clydesfold, solemnly. Mr. McAndrew nodded.