"My dear fellow, that is where the woman's artfulness comes in," said Carrington quickly. "She had to give some reason for possessing the will. By hiding it in a hole, and then writing to herself that anonymous letter saying where it was to be found, she does away with all suspicion against her." "Not in your mind apparently," said Hendle, dryly. "Of course not. But a long course of criminal law has opened my eyes to the habits of the animals. I may be unduly suspicious, I grant you, still the fact remains that the story Mrs. Beatson told us last night is too thin. Granting that the woman is innocent, why should the real criminal tell her where to find that which he risked his life to obtain?" "It does seem strange. And yet----" "Oh, you are full of scruples, Hendle!" cried the barrister pettishly. "What is Mrs. Beatson to you that you should defend her so warmly?" "She is a woman, and I have a great respect for women." Carrington made a grimace. "You answer like a raw boy. My experience of the sex has not led me to respect any single one." "Yet you know Dorinda?" "There speaks the lover. Well then, I do respect her, if that concession will satisfy your chivalrous ideas. But I don't believe this cock-and-bull story of Mrs. Beatson, and I certainly don't respect her." "Neither do I. All the same, I credit her story." Carrington shrugged his shoulders at this persistent optimism. "Then let us agree to consider her innocent until we prove her to be guilty. But you must see that if you interview your lawyers to-day, within the week a whole avalanche of troubles will descend on your thick head." "Well," replied the Squire, wavering, "I shall wait for a few days, as you advise. I wonder what Dorinda will say?" "Don't tell her," said the barrister quickly, for it was difficult enough for him to deal with one honest person without tackling a second. "She will tell her father about the discovered will if you do." "I don't care if she does. Mallien has to know some time, since he is so deeply concerned in the matter." "Hendle," said Carrington seriously, "you are a child. Don't say a word to Mallien, or to his daughter, who might tell him, until you have seen your lawyers. That's common sense." On reflection Rupert was obliged to confess that it was, since his cousin would certainly make trouble straightway. It would be best to have the opinion of the lawyers beforehand, so that the situation might be adjusted so far as possible before the probable inheritor came into the matter. Of course he knew that Dorinda would tell her father nothing if asked to keep silent, but to so ask would be to lay another burden on her. Mallien was suspicious, brooding and pertinacious. If he thought that she was keeping anything from him, he certainly would never rest until he learned what it was. "I shall not tell Dorinda until I have seen the lawyers," said Rupert. "And you will see them----?"