And now the scene became painful indeed to witness, as the mother and daughter stood facing each other with the questions in their eyes that they were too terrified to put. Both of them at some time had loved the murdered man; both of them, perhaps, had come to hate him. And now each had been shaken by a sudden revelation of the other’s hidden side. The mother had just caught an appalling glimpse into her daughter’s unknown relations with her step-father; the daughter had been staggered by the suggestion that her mother might have been his mortal enemy. And all the time, beneath these mutual dreads and suspicions it might be, these unconscious jealousies, there prevailed, stronger than any other feeling, that blind, unselfish love between mother and child which made both of them eager to thrust themselves into danger in the other’s place. The parts had been reversed. It was Sarah who was now anxious to close her mother’s mouth and Mrs. Weathered who showed herself determined to speak. The skilful manipulator of human nature who had wrought up this dramatic situation knew that he had only to wait for the _dénouement_ at which he had aimed. He had not to wait long. “If you have trusted Sir Frank Tarleton I can do the same,” the elder woman said at last. “I have more to tell him than he knows. He thinks that I only found those letters in the cupboard after my husband’s death. I have been reading every one of them for more than a year.” If the consultant had not quite expected to hear this he had been expecting something more than he thought it wise to indicate just then. He let no sign of his thoughts appear outwardly. The two women, exhausted by the tempest of emotion they had passed through, sat down side by side; but they kept their eyes averted from one another, and only raised them from time to time to watch the effect of Mrs. Weathered’s narrative on him. “You mustn’t think that I am an inquisitive woman, Sir Frank. I didn’t discover my husband’s secrets by prying. I never knew the existence of the cupboard or the letters till one of the women who had been led into writing to him came to me.” This was news to the doctor. He pricked up his ears for the name. “She was a Miss Sebright--Miss Julia Sebright.” “Ah! She is dead.” Tarleton thought it sound policy to show that he was able to check the statements made to him. “Yes. She died soon afterwards, of a broken heart, I think. She came to me in despair and appealed to me as Dr. Weathered’s wife to protect her from him.” Sir Frank got up, walked to the window, opened it and waved his hand. The gendarme outside saluted respectfully and marched away. CHAPTER XIX THE MEANS TO DO ILL DEEDS