"Because I wanted to be sure of something; and that fainting has enlightened me." "Can't you tell me more?" cried Gebb, with some indignation. "No, I cannot," answered Prain, bluntly. "Get Miss Wedderburn's permission, and I will. But even if you did know, the knowledge would be of no use to you." "Has Miss Wedderburn any theory about this murder?" "Not that I know of. You saw her last, Mr. Gebb." "Does she know who killed Miss Gilmar?" "Why not ask her?" said Prain, evading the question. "I did; and I can't make out what she means. She says that Dean is innocent, but won't give her reason. Now, Parge declares that Dean is guilty." "Well, Mr. Gebb, perhaps he is." "Indeed!" sneered Gebb, who was growing irritated. "Last time I saw you, Mr. Prain, you denied his guilt." "And I do so now!" cried Prain, warmly. "I believe, as you do, Gebb, that Dean is innocent of both crimes. He killed neither Kirkstone nor Miss Gilmar. I don't know what Miss Wedderburn's reasons are, but she is right to defend Dean. Still," added Prain with a shrug, "I don't deny that many people look on the man as a murderer." "Does Mr. Alder believe in Dean's guilt--in his double guilt?" "Yes. He is sure of it. You can ask him for yourself," added Prain, looking at his watch. "He'll be here soon." "I'll be glad to meet him. But what is your opinion about this crime?" "I told you the last time I saw you," replied the solicitor. "Miss Gilmar was murdered by one of those fortune-tellers for the sake of her diamonds. Recover that necklace, and you will soon trace the assassin." "It's not much of an idea," said Gebb, scornfully. "It's the best I've got, at all events!" retorted Prain, with heat. "I have done my best to prove its truth by sending a description of that necklace to the police." "I dare say the description is in the hands of all pawnbrokers by this time," said Gebb, thoughtfully. "Well, we shall see what will come of it. What about Ferris?" "Ferris!" repeated Prain, in no wise astonished at this abrupt question. "Well, he is an artist, and a bit of a scamp, with whom Edith Wedderburn is in love. I don't know why; perhaps because he is a scamp. Women seem to like scamps, for some reason best known to themselves." "Is he handsome?" "Very. Tall and dark; rather military-looking." "Has he a mark on one cheek?" "Yes, a birth-mark; but not disfiguring. How did you know about it?" "That lunatic at Kirkstone Hall told me. He called it the mark of Satan. By the way, who is that man?" "A gardener who used to live at the Hall in Kirkstone's time. I think the tragedy of the Yellow Room must have sent him off his head. At all events, he ran away after it occurred, and only turned up a year or two ago, quite mad." "Why didn't they lock him up?"