Dora played her part bravely; but at times it was too much for her, and she would leave the house to scour the country on her bicycle. Joad was too old and shaky to accompany her, and she was thus relieved in some measure from his senile adoration. But, however near she approached to Canterbury, she never entered the town or sought out Allen. "No," she said to herself, when unusually impelled to make the visit; "first I shall learn the truth. Once in possession of Allen's secret, of the name of Mr. Edermont's assassin, and I shall know how to act; till then I shall remain absent." But, with all her diplomacy, it was not so easy to gain the confidence of Joad. The least hint at Mr. Edermont's past, and he withdrew into himself. He evaded her most dexterous inquiries; and when she pressed him hard, assumed the character of a dull, stupid old man who knew nothing about the matter. Yet he was not unwilling to discuss the details of the murder and subsequent robbery, although he professed himself unable to account for either. By acting thus, he ignored the question of Edermont's secret enemy. But one day Dora succeeded in forcing him into plain speaking; but the revelation made was one she was far from expecting. The beginning of the whole matter lay in the fact that she discovered Joad in the library the worse for drink. It was not that he was confused or maudlin, for the man's brain and speech were both clear. But he was filled with Dutch courage, which made him more audacious than usual. Dora reproved him for his vice. "You should be ashamed of yourself, drinking so much brandy, Mr. Joad!" she said severely. "I have not touched brandy for weeks!" said Joad, lying glibly, after the fashion of habitual drunkards. Dora looked at him in contempt, and pointed out a tall mirror, before which they were both standing. It reflected her own tall, straight form, and also the figure of the disreputable old sinner. "Can you see your face and deny it?" she said in a tone of rebuke. "Your eyes are red, your clothes are awry, your----" "Leave me to bear the burden of my own sins," said Joad sullenly; "if I take brandy, I don't ask you to pay for it." "But you are a gentleman, a scholar," persisted Dora, sorry for the wretched old creature; "you should be above such low vices." "We cannot be above the depths to which we have fallen, Miss Carew. My life has been one long failure, so it is scarcely to be wondered at that I fly to drink for consolation. Few men have been so hardly treated as I have been." "Yet Mr. Edermont helped you." "No doubt," retorted Joad viciously; "but he would not have stretched out a finger to save me if I had not forced him to." "You forced Mr. Edermont to----?" "I forced him to nothing," interrupted Joad, seeing that he had gone too far. "It is only my way of speaking. Don't mind the ramblings of a foolish old failure."