And there was, as Rupert pointed out to Dorinda, a grave doubt whether he would speak at all, when informed that his presence in Barship on the night of the murder was known. Hendle intended to question the barrister on this point and hear what defense he could offer, but before doing so, desired to see his cousin and enlist his aid. It was even more to Mallien's interest than to Rupert's to bring Carrington to book, and only by the cousins joining forces could they accomplish their end. And that was, to learn for certain who had murdered the vicar. It assuredly seemed as though the barrister was the guilty person, and should the crime be brought home to him, his evil scheme to acquire money by blackmail would be frustrated. Instead of accusing Mallien to the police, it was probable that Carrington would be forced to fly lest Lawson should lay hands on him. Dorinda returned home in a much more comfortable frame of mind, since Rupert thus placed matters in a better light. She was also more content because affairs were in her lover's hands. He, if anyone, would be able to make the crooked straight. One of Hendle's last injunctions to the girl was that she should say nothing to her father about her visit to The Big House. He warned her not to repeat what she had heard, and not to question her father in any way regarding his dealings with Carrington. Rupert arranged matters thus because he intended to call on his cousin next day and have a complete understanding with him. Mallien therefore was much annoyed, and very illogically so, when his daughter no longer implored him to be plain with her. On Sunday evening and Monday morning she saw him looking gloomy and disturbed, yet made no effort to cheer him, or, as he put it, to bear his burden. Dorinda laughed outright when her father made this last remark. "Really, father, you are unreasonable," she observed, when putting on her hat to go shopping in the village. "How can I bear your burden when you won't tell me what it is?" "I have told you," growled the little man crossly, "that blackguard Carrington dares to accuse me of murdering Leigh." "Well," said Dorinda lightly, "as you didn't murder him what does it matter?" "You talk rubbish. Carrington can tell serious lies which may endanger my liberty." "What are those lies, father?" "I shan't tell you," snapped Mallien. Dorinda shrugged her shoulders and took up her sunshade. "Then how can you expect me to bear your burden, as you put it? You tell me enough to make me anxious, yet not enough to enable me to help you." "You can't help me." "In that case there is no more to be said."