"Mr. Carver, the lawyer. For some reason Mr. Edermont lied to me, and confirmed his lie by paying me certain moneys which he said came from my inherited income. I hear now that I am a pauper. But for his bequest of two hundred a year and the freehold of the Red House, I should be a beggar." "I cannot understand his reason for deceiving you," said Allen, drawing a long breath; "but at all events, he has made some reparation by leaving you enough to live on. You will always have a home at the Red House." "You do not know the conditions of the will," was Dora's reply. "I have to live at the Red House; I have to permit Mr. Joad to carry on his former life, which means that I must see him daily, and I hate the man," added Dora fervently; "I loathe him; and now that Mr. Edermont is dead, I do not know to what length his audacity may carry him." "What do you mean?" demanded Allen, frowning. "I mean that Joad admires me." "Admires you?" The young man stepped forward and clenched his fists. "Impossible that he should dare!" "Oh, trust a woman's instinct in such matters, Allen! Yes, Mr. Joad admires me, and I believe he will soon put his admiration into words." "If he does, I'll thrash him within an inch of his life!" "As my affianced husband you no doubt have the right," replied Dora steadily; "but have you the will? You say you love me, yet----" "I do love you!" he burst out; "and it is because of my love for you that I keep silent. On that fatal day Edermont, beside himself with terror, betrayed to me a secret he had better have kept hidden. That secret parts us for ever. I dare not marry you." "You dare not? What secret can have the power to make you say such words?" "If I told you that, I should tell you all," replied Allen sullenly. "Do not try me beyond my strength, Dora. If you suffer, I suffer also. For your own sake I keep silent, and I love you too dearly to inflict unnecessary pain." "What you might inflict can be no worse than what you have inflicted," said Dora bitterly. "I see it is useless to ask you to confide in me. But one word: has this secret to do with Mr. Edermont's death?" Allen hesitated; then, turning away his head: "I cannot answer you," he said resolutely. "Oh!" said Dora in a taunting tone; "then you know something about the death." "I know nothing," replied Allen, with a white face. "Yes, you do. Your refusal to explain shows me that the secret has to do with the murder. Perhaps Mr. Edermont told you the name of the person he was afraid of. Well, that person perhaps carried out his wicked purpose." "Why do you say 'perhaps'?" asked Allen suddenly. "You seem to be doubtful." "Because a day or two before the crime was committed, Mr. Pallant called on my guardian. What he told him relieved him of the fear of assassination. Therefore I do not know if Mr. Edermont's enemy killed him." Allen jumped up and looked eagerly at the girl. "Did Pallant say that the person whom Mr. Edermont feared was--was dead?"