"What?" Mrs. Beatson gasped and stared. "Well, why should you when you can be happier elsewhere?" "I didn't say that I would. And if you discharge me--as I knew you would when you talked of marrying Miss Mallien--I shall ask for one year's wages and a letter saying how thoroughly I attended to my duties." "I had no idea of discharging you until I discovered your treachery," protested Hendle sharply. "It's your own fault and----" "Mrs. Beatson's future can be settled later," interrupted Carrington at this point of the argument. "Just now she must answer me some questions." "I shan't!" raged the woman, furious at her humiliating position. "It's all your fault that I have lost my----" "If you don't answer," interrupted the barrister again, "I shall hand you over to Kensit to be taken to Lawson at Tarhaven." "You wouldn't dare. Mr. Hendle wouldn't let you." "Oh, yes, I should," said Rupert sternly. "I'm not going to play fast and loose with the law." Mrs. Beatson's sour face became gray and pinched. "I know nothing about the matter, more than I have told you," she cried, greatly terrified at the prospect of being locked up. "I told Mr. Mallien about the will, and I dug it up when I got that letter." "When did you tell Mr. Mallien?" asked Rupert, remembering how he had intended to put this question before and had not. "On the day after I overheard the conversation," whimpered the housekeeper, very much subdued. "When I was in London?" "Yes. I went in the afternoon to the cottage. Miss Mallien had gone to tea with Miss Tollart, and I saw Mr. Mallien. He told me to hold my tongue and he would speak to you about the matter. Also he said that if he got the property he would give me an annuity." "Did you tell him before the crime was committed?" asked Carrington. "Am I not saying so?" shrieked Mrs. Beatson, virulently. "I told him on the very afternoon of the next day, and you know quite well that it was at eleven o'clock of the same night that Mr. Leigh was murdered. And no one was more astonished than I was." "Had you any idea who murdered him?" "No. How should I have any idea?" "Have you any idea now?" "No, I haven't, unless it was the person who sent that letter?" "Who sent it?" Mrs. Beatson stamped. "What a fool your are, Mr. Carrington! You have the letter and know as much about the matter as I do." The barrister thought for a few moments, then turned his back on the angry woman to address Rupert. "Do you think she is speaking the truth, Hendle?" "Yes, I do." "Of course you do," cried the housekeeper, looking viciously at the pair. "I am not accustomed to having my word doubted." "Hold your tongue, or it will be the worse for you," said Carrington sharply. "You have behaved very badly and ought to be locked up. All the same, I advise Mr. Hendle to leave matters as they are for a day or so, until we examine this will and make inquiries as to who sent this letter."