"It was my eldest son. I saw him as he struggled with me--in his uniform, and I picked up afterwards from the floor his knife--his pocket-knife that had been used to wrench open the casket of jewels. The knife with `RM' on the handle. It was given to my son by the fisherman, Miggles." "Yes, Dick gave me that knife years ago," said Fred, speaking like one who has received a tremendous blow. "I have not seen it since that night." "No," said the old man bitterly; "it lies far out beyond the end of the pier, buried deep in sand by now." Fred Denville stood holding his hands pressed to his head, staring straight before him at the whitewashed wall, while neither spoke. The silence was broken by the rattling of bolts and the turning of a key, when the gaoler threw open the door, and, without a word, the dragoon walked, or rather reeled, from the cell, as if he had taken strong drink till his senses were nearly gone. Volume Three, Chapter XVI. BLOW FOR BLOW. Fred Denville went straight to Barclay's, and was admitted, Claire looking at him reproachfully as he threw himself into a chair. "Oh, Fred!" she cried, "and at such a time!" "Not been drinking," he said; "not been drinking. How's May?" "Very ill, dear," said Claire sadly. "Here?" "Yes, Mrs Barclay insisted upon her being brought, so that we could be together." "God bless her," said Fred softly. Then, after a pause--"I've seen the old man." "And you are friends, Fred?" He shook his head, and sat staring down at the carpet. "But you tried to be, dear?" "Yes; tried hard. I've been. I've done my duty--for once," he said with a strange laugh. He did not speak again for a few minutes, and Claire sat holding his hand, looking at him doubtingly, his manner was so strange. "You think I've been drinking," he cried fiercely. "Give a dog a bad name, and then hang him. I haven't touched a drop to-day." He changed his manner to her directly, and his voice was low and tender as he took her to his breast and kissed her. "Poor little Clairy," he said; "you've had a rough time. Never mind; brighter days coming. The old man will be found innocent." "Innocent, Fred?" she faltered. "Yes, innocent," he cried. "Wait: you will see. Clairy, look here. Tell me this. Did I ever talk about Lady Teigne's jewels when I came to see you?" "I don't know, dear. Yes, I remember now, I think you did." "Hah!" he ejaculated. "I must go now. Good-bye, little woman. I always loved my little sister, always. You know that, don't you, Clairy?" "Yes, dear Fred, always." "Bad as I was?" "Oh, Fred, I never thought you bad," cried Claire piteously. "I only thought it was a pity you did not try to raise yourself, and--" "Leave the drink alone. Quite right, Clairy. It was the drink. It makes a man stupid and mad. He doesn't know what he's about when he has taken too much. Remember that, my dear, it was the drink." "Fred, how strangely you are talking."