"Never mind what I know, tell me." "My father," she began, and then her voice died away in her throat and she cast a frightened look at the door. I knelt at her feet and took her cold hands within my own. "We are quite safe, dearest. Tell me, tell me, trust me fully." I knew pretty well what she was about to say, but wished her to voluntarily give me her full confidence. "It was my father I saw through the door," she whispered, bending over me anxiously, "he called to see Anne on that day. She came back and told me he was there. I did not wish to meet him, as already I had caught a glimpse of his face. Therefore I ran out of the back door, leaving my cloak behind me." "Why did you not wish to meet him?" "Because he would have insisted upon knowing why I had come to Mootley. If he had learned what I had found in the diary he would have got the secret from Anne, and then the money would have passed into his possession, to make bad use of. I thought it better to go, and I fled on the impulse of the moment. I had no time to think." "Dear, I believe that your father knew Mrs. Caldershaw possessed the secret, else why should he have come to see her." "Then you guessed that I was shielding him?" "Yes, I guessed, and now I know for certain." "Who told you, Cyrus?" "Your father himself." Gertrude rose unsteadily to her feet, grasping my arm. "But--but," she stammered, "has he confessed that he is guilty." I rose also and at the same moment. "No, dear. He is the last man to confess anything that would get him into trouble. He swears that he is innocent." "Oh, I hope so--I think he must be." She clasped her hands and her eyes shone in her pale face like twin stars. "Papa is foolish and--as I see now--selfish. But he would never commit so cruel a murder." "I think he would do anything, provided he was not found out," I said in a cynical manner. "Of course you left before the termination of his interview with Mrs. Caldershaw, so you can't say for certain if he is innocent or guilty. But Striver accuses him." "Striver," she grasped my arm again in her fright, "and he was concealed in the bedroom, but he was asleep. He said that he was asleep." "He woke--according to his story--at the sound of voices, and saw your father in the shop. He accuses him of the murder because he found the glass eye amongst your father's luggage in America." "In America. Has Joseph been to America?" "Yes. He followed your father there to force him to insist upon the marriage--which he apparently intended to bring about by threatening you. Then he found--so he says--the glass eye in your father's dressing-bag and accused him. To keep Striver quiet, your father made him his secretary and brought him back to England. This morning I received a wire from your father asking for my assistance. I went up and"--I shrugged--"that is all."