I examined the letter closely. It was genuine enough; of that there was no doubt, as it bore the French and English postmarks. I quite believed that it was written by Felix, but also that it had been forwarded from Paris by an emissary of the young man in order to keep up the needful deception. Certainly Felix had a marked talent for intrigue. "If Felix Briarfield is in Paris," said I, handing back the letter to Olivia, "who was it I met at the Fen Inn last night?" "The Fen Inn!" replied Olivia, with a puzzled look; "why, no one lives there now, Mr. Denham. It is in ruins, and has been empty for over two years." "Nevertheless, it was tenanted last night, and I slept there. Also I met Francis Briarfield at the same place." "Francis was not out of the house last night," declared Olivia decisively. "Quite true," he replied. "I went to bed early with a bad headache." "It was not you I met at the inn last night, but your brother Francis." "How can you persist in so foolish a story?" said Olivia angrily. "This is Francis, and Felix is in Paris. You could not have met either of them at the Fen Inn last night, and, indeed, I can't believe that you slept there at all!" "I did, Miss Bellin, and there I met Francis." "If you did, where is he now? Why not clear up the mystery by bringing him here with you?" "Because he is dead!" "Dead!" she echoed, catching the arm of Felix. "Dead! Who is dead?" "Francis Briarfield." "He is mad," she said to Felix in a low tone, her face white with fear. "Upon my word, I am beginning to think so myself," I said, losing my temper; "but I declare on my oath that I speak the truth. There is only one way of solving the riddle. Come out with me to the Fen Inn, and look on the face of the dead man I say is Francis Briarfield. A single glance will give the lie to the assertion of this man who pretends to be your lover!" Felix looked at Olivia, she at him. It seemed to me that they grew a shade paler. I wondered whether any guilty bond existed between them, as certainly they seemed to understand one another very well. Olivia appeared anxious to protect Felix from harm. Either she really believed him to be Francis, or had taken her heart from one brother and given it to the other. It was she who spoke first in and throughout the interview; the woman played a more daring game than did the man. Her attitude puzzled me, and for the moment I was quite in the dark as to what were her real thoughts regarding my story and that of the pseudo Francis. "We cannot go to-night," she said, with some hesitation, "but tomorrow morning, if you like, we will ride out to the inn." I glanced at my watch. "It is now five o'clock," said I; "and will be light up to nine or thereabouts. There is plenty of time for us to ride to the Fen Inn, and I think it advisable to do so at once." "Why not to-morrow morning?" objected Felix.