"If God don't catch him," said Gracie, slowly, "and you don't, _I_ will. You just see if I don't. I've got to, because of what they're saying of father. Dick, if I was a man I'd tear 'em to pieces. Poor father! It's too bad, ain't it?" "Altogether too bad." "There's mother fretting herself to skin and bone. She gets up in the night, and goes down to the Mews, and when she thinks nobody sees her she cries and cries fit to break her heart; but _I_ see her, and I feel like killing somebody!" Not a trace of emotion in her dark little face; no kindling light in her eyes; no tremor in her voice. The passion which agitated her was expressed only in the clinging of her fingers to the hand of the friend in whom she trusted and believed. "I dreamt of father last night, Dick," she continued. "He was running as hard as he could, and there was a mob of people after him. I kept 'em back. 'If you dare,' I cried, 'if you dare!' So we got away together, and where do you think we got to?" "Couldn't say for my life, Gracie, dreams are such funny things." "Yes, they are, ain't they? We got into Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole Square, and we went all over it, into every room, creeping up and down the stairs, looking for the murderer. 'You didn't do it, father?' I said. He swore a big oath that he was innocent, and he cried to me to save him and catch the murderer. I'm going to. I promised I would, and I'm going to." "It was only a dream, Gracie." "It was real. I can hear him now, I can see him now. I've promised to catch the murderer, and I'm going to." They had reached Aunt Rob's house, and Dick stopped. "I must leave you now, Gracie. My friends live here." "You won't throw us over, will you? You'll come and see us?" "Yes, I will come." She raised her face; he stooped and kissed her and she went away with a lighter heart. CHAPTER XXXV. LADY WHARTON STARTLES THE COURT. When the jury re-assembled on Wednesday the excitement created by the mystery had reached fever heat, and long before the Court was opened a crowd of people had gathered round the doors. Numbers of influential persons had applied for admission, and as many of these were accommodated as the limited space at the disposal of the Coroner would permit. The first day's proceedings had whetted curiosity, and many members of the aristocracy were present to hear the evidence which Lady Wharton was to give, the nature of which had been kept a profound secret. The learned professions were adequately represented; the stage sent some of its best actors and actresses, and literature some of its most famous authors. Never in the history of crime had a gathering so notable assembled at the initial inquiry into the circumstances of a mystery murder.