"It's true," groaned Ronald; "my God, it's true!" and he fell heavily into his chair again. "And what is your opinion?" asked Foster. "My theory," corrected Roper, "is this: I think Miss Cotoner saw her old lover on the boat, and committed the murder, trusting to the presence of her sister on board to shield her from the consequences of her crime.. I also believe that Vassalla knows she is guilty, and has threatened to tell unless she marry him." "Yes, but what about Mrs. Verschoyle?" "Oh! I think she knows that Carmela's guilty, and threatens to expose her, if she will not refuse to marry Vassalla." "It all seems clear enough," said Foster, thoughtfully. "Yes, but it's a d----d lie, for all that," said Ronald, springing to his feet, and oh, how haggard and worn his young face looked! "Look here, you fellows. I love Miss Cotoner, and I don't believe she's guilty. I think that cursed Vassalla is at the bottom of it all. I'm going to Marlow, where Carmela is, and there I'll act a part. I'll see her, speak to her, and find out everything, but I must have your promise not to move in the matter, till I tell you." "We cannot promise," said Roper. "Whose servant are you?" asked Ronald, fiercely; "will you do what I tell you?" "The law----" began Roper. "Hang the law, and you too," burst out Ronald; "if Carmela is guilty, you can't arrest her on the evidence you have, but she's innocent--innocent! d'ye hear? I'll stake my head on it. Give me a month to clear her, and if I don't do it by then, the law can take it's course." "Agreed," said Roper. "For my part," said Foster; "I don't care if the case stops now." "I only want a month," cried Ronald, "and I'll prove her innocence, if I have to tear the truth out of Vassalla's black heart. Because of a little superficial evidence, you believe her guilty. I don't. I love her, and I'll clear her; so help me God!" Theatrical, no doubt, but both the men felt that the lad spoke from his heart. "I'll have another glass of brandy, Foster," said Ronald, quietly. He got it, and drank it. 'Tis but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous. CHAPTER XXI. AT MARLOW REGATTA. Sir Mark Trevor's family mansion, as everyone knows, is in Cornwall, but, being passionately fond of the River Thames, he had bought a place down at Hurley, where he passed the summer months, and there entertained his large circle of friends. The idle, pleasant life of the river suited the baronet to perfection, and being a man fond of books and antiquities, he found the neighbourhood quite to his taste, much preferring the unpretending house at Hurley to his grand hall in Cornwall, and the pleasant vales and hills of Bucks to the wild Tors and iron-bound coasts of the west country.