A fly brought Betsy Tucker to the Hall. There, in the presence of Mr. Conroy, she was requested to point out the place, as nearly as she could recollect it, where she had picked up the link. It was within a few yards of the spot where Hubert Stone was found. The girl had nothing more to tell, and sobbed out her contrition for her fault. Miss Winter was everything that was kind; but Mr. Conroy, speaking sternly, warned her not to disclose a word to anyone about the affair or there was no telling what the consequences to herself might be. The girl, with many tears, promised faithfully to keep the secret, and seemed only too glad to be let off so easily. The sleeve-link had not belonged, so far as could be ascertained, to Hubert: whether it had, or had not, been the property of his assailant, was another matter. If so, it must have been wrenched from his sleeve during the scuffle; and, as Edward Conroy shrewdly remarked, it proved that the assailant was a gentleman. No man in an inferior station would be likely to wear such a link. "I shall run up to town to-morrow," said Edward Conroy to Ella, when the interview was over and they were alone. "To town! For anything in particular?" "Merely to put this malachite and gold trinket into certain hands," he added. "If this link can be traced out to its owner, it may lead to some discoveries." Mr. Conroy accordingly went to London. This, it will be noted, was within two or three days of his first arrival at Heron Dyke. He returned from London the following day, having put matters, together with the sleeve-stud, as he informed Miss Winter, into efficient hands. Taking up his abode, as before, at Nullington, he passed a considerable portion of his time at Heron Dyke. Months before this, Conroy had heard tell of the strange disappearance of Katherine Keen; but only now was he made aware that the Hall was supposed to be haunted by her presence. He listened to the story of how the two maids, whom Aaron Stone had afterwards discharged in consequence, had positively asserted that they saw her looking down upon them from the gallery; he heard the story of Mrs. Carlyon's fright, and of Maria Kettle's strange experience not long ago. The evidence, taken collectively, was too strong to be altogether ignored, despite his inclination so to treat it. "I wish the ghost would favour me with a visit!" he heartily exclaimed. "I would do my best to put its unsubstantiality to the proof." "I know not which would be the worse: to find that Katherine is in the Hall in the flesh--that she is not dead, as her poor sister believes--or that the house is haunted by her spirit," breathed Miss Winter in answer. "Have you any objection to my exploring this north wing?" he inquired, after a pause of thought. "Not the least. I should be thankful for you to do so."