"He came up here and insisted that I should destroy the will I made in favour of his brother and Miss Carrol. Here it is," and Colpster passed along the large envelope. "Take it, Harry, and give it to Basil when he returns. It is not safe here." "Shall I take the emerald?" asked Harry, putting the envelope containing the will in the breast-pocket of his pea-jacket. Colpster snatched the gem to his breast and nursed it there like a baby. "No! no! no!" he cried vehemently. "I can't part with that. I'll die before anyone shall have it but me. Give me more wine." Still clutching the jewel he drank another glass of port, and became quite strong again with the stimulant. Meanwhile Theodore lay stiffly on the carpet, cursing volubly. Harry kicked him. "Shut your mouth," said the sailor, "or I'll gag you." "I'll have you arrested for this," repeated Theodore, impotently scowling. "That's all right," said Pentreddle, and drawing a chair near the sofa he turned to the Squire. "Now, sir, we must have a talk." "What's the matter?" asked Colpster in some alarm. "Where have you been to, and where have you come from?" "I'll tell you, sir, if you'll listen. On the night I left here that Japanese Akira followed me up the road, when I was making for my friend and the trap on the moors." "Ah!" Theodore groaned. "That was why he went to bed early. I knew that he was up to some game. He pretended to go to bed and--" "And followed me. Quite right, sir. He did, and he told me all about the murder of my poor mother." "What?" Colpster gasped. "Are you the person Akira said he would send to tell me all that I wished to know?" Pentreddle nodded grimly. "I am the person. I went to London next day with Count Akira, and he introduced me to a person who knew all about the murder. I got it written down, signed and witnessed in a proper manner. Then I came here with the Count in his yacht, and arrived just in time to save that devil," he pointed to Theodore, "from committing a second crime." "A second crime," echoed the Squire, bewildered. "I don't understand." "It's a lie; a lie," howled Theodore, straining at his bonds. "If I were free I'd dash the lie down your throat." "And my teeth too, you murdering beast," said Harry, clenching his hands. "I owe you one for the murder of my mother." Colpster sprang to his feet with surprising alacrity, considering his late exhaustion. "Murder! Did--did--did," he pointed a shaking finger at the mass on the floor, "did he murder Martha?" "Yes," said Harry sadly. "It's a lie; a lie!" muttered Theodore again and again, struggling fiercely. "It's the truth. Sit down, Mr. Colpster, and I'll tell you all about it. I have the document of an eye-witness signed and witnessed here," he touched his breast-pocket. "An eye-witness?" said Colpster, resuming his seat heavily. "Yes. That priest with the scar on his cheek I told you about, who saw me watching The Home of Art."