"You can call him Arthur," said Gebb, coolly. "I know that he is your son." "Is this so?" asked Dean, looking with some surprise at Ferris. "Yes, father. I told Mr. Gebb the truth, or, rather, I admitted it, as he had already learned my relationship to you from Prain. He knows everything, and we have come to ask you to right yourself in his eyes--to confess." "Confess, Arthur! Do you believe that I killed Kirkstone?" "No," said Arthur, with conviction, "I do not." "And you, Edith," said Dean, looking at the girl, "is it your opinion that I am guilty of Miss Gilmar's death?" "No," replied Edith, in her turn. "Appearances are against you, but I truly believe you to be guiltless." "And so I am, for----" "Before you go on," interrupted Gebb, looking up, "I think it will be best for you to approach this matter with more particularity. Were you not at Grangebury on the night of the twenty-fourth of July?" "Yes," admitted Dean, promptly, "I was. I went to see Mr. Basson, who had been my counsel." "About what?" "About the confession of Miss Gilmar." "What!" cried Gebb, in surprise. "You found it?" "I found it on the twentieth of July, concealed in the Yellow Boudoir, where Ellen Gilmar had hidden it. I know now who killed Kirkstone." "Miss Laura!" cried the detective, knowing Dean's belief. "No. Miss Gilmar herself was the murderess." "Well, I never!" said Gebb; and looked at Edith and her lover, who were not much astonished. "And where is the confession now?" "Mr. Alder has it," was the unexpected reply. "Alder! Why, he believes you to be guilty. He said so several times." "I asked him to," replied Dean, quickly; "Mr. Alder has been a good friend to me all through." "He has been a good friend to us all," said Edith, touching Arthur's hand. "Does Mr. Alder know who you are?" "Yes. He had been present at my trial, you know, and, in spite of my altered appearance, he recognized me on one of his visits to the Hall. I begged him to keep my secret, and he did. I asked him to talk of me as guilty, so that I might be the more effectually concealed." "I don't see how that would help you," interrupted Gebb, sharply. "Why not? If Alder had gone about insisting that I was innocent, you might have suspected that he had seen me lately; while by stating what everybody believed, no questions would be asked." "True enough," said Gebb, his brow clearing. "But I confess this disjointed information of yours puzzles me not a little. Suppose you tell us the whole story from the time you first masqueraded as Mad Martin." "Certainly," assented Dean, readily. "I intended to do so, as I wish you to help me to establish my innocence. Also, I owe it to my son and Miss Wedderburn to relate things I formerly kept from them." "We are all attention," said Edith, and leaned forward eagerly.