"What is that to me?" said Pallant with a shrug. "I am no prophet, to foretell the day and hour of a man's death. I said that Carew was past harming him. That was true. Carew did not kill him." "Then who did?" "My dear young lady, if I could tell you that I should be the richer by fifty thousand pounds; but on that point I am as ignorant as you are. I held your father in my arms when he died; I saw him buried. It was not Carew who killed Dargill, _alias_ Edermont, and there is nothing in the story told to me by your father likely to throw light on the mystery." "You--you do not think my mother killed him?" faltered Dora. Pallant scoffed at the idea. "Could those little hands wield a heavy club? Could those weak muscles deliver so terrible a blow? No, Miss Carew; your mother is too weak, too--if I dare say so--cowardly, to do such a thing. She is as innocent of this death as your father. Dargill's fate is not due to the vendetta of the past." "It must be due to something of the sort, Mr. Pallant. No one had any interest in killing so harmless a man." "No one in this neighbourhood, you mean." "Yes; I have lived here all my life, and I know everything about my guardian. He had few friends, and lived quietly among his books and flowers. Beyond his constant fear lest my father should find him out, I never saw him distressed in any way. And in some things Mr. Edermont was as transparent as a child. If he had been threatened by any person about here, I should have known of it." "Then you think his death must be due to what took place twenty years ago?" "Don't you think so yourself, Mr. Pallant?" "No, Miss Carew, I do not," replied the red-haired man quietly. "If your father had lived I might have held a different opinion. But, knowing the story of the past, you can see for yourself that, excepting Carew, no one had any motive or desire to kill Dargill." "Then what is your own theory?" asked Dora, rather confounded by this argument. "Burglary. Yes! Mr. Edermont was known to be rich; this house is in a lonely situation, and I dare say the burglar made himself acquainted with the garrison of the mansion. Two women and one old man--small odds against a sturdy villain. Inspector Jedd, of Canterbury, is also of my opinion. The burglar, or burglars, broke in, ransacked the desk, killed Edermont, who interrupted them, and then bolted. That is my theory, Miss Carew." "I do not agree with you," replied Dora calmly; "you forget that nothing was taken out of the bureau but that manuscript containing the story of the past." "How do you know that the manuscript was in the bureau?" "Mr. Edermont said so in his will."