“You were impatient to repay it shall we say? A very commendable instinct.” He smiled at her with a suggestion of beneficent approval. He almost beamed upon her. Then suddenly he struck—and struck home! “You repaid it yesterday, Mrs. Bertenshaw—_where did you get it from?_” Mrs. Bertenshaw’s lips moved as though to reply to him but they failed—no sound passed through them—no answer was forthcoming. She was literally speechless. Branston looked at her sympathetically, Godfrey thought—no doubt he would have liked to come to her assistance—so pitiable an appearance did she present. “I’m waiting to hear what you have to say,” proceeded Bannister. “It shouldn’t be difficult for you to answer after all. You must have got them from somewhere. Come now!” “I found them,” she whispered. “Be very careful now—because there’s a most vital reason why you should be very careful. Very careful indeed. _Those notes belonged to Sheila Delaney, the young girl that’s been murdered!_ That’s been proved conclusively.” He stood and watched her. Mrs. Bertenshaw’s eyes were fixed on him in a kind of frightened stare, but Sergeant Godfrey felt certain that the stare contained an element of surprise. Surprise that was not simulated. “I don’t know anything about that,” she said agitatedly. “I found the notes—as I told you. I don’t know anything about the murder. I never saw Miss Delaney in my life until I saw her dead in the master’s chair—that’s the solemn truth if I never speak another word.” “Found them?” exclaimed Branston in marked surprise. “Found them?” echoed Bannister, incredulously. “Where—in the name of goodness?” Mrs. Bertenshaw looked feebly across at Branston, seemingly to invite his assistance. But it was unavailing. If Branston knew anything he was not intending to divulge it. Mrs. Bertenshaw must tell her own story in her own way. “I found those notes,” she repeated, “and the money was a perfect God-send to me. No woman could ever speak truer words than those. I yielded to the temptation to keep silent about it. Please forgive me, Mr. Branston, if I’ve unwittingly brought any trouble to you. Nothing was farther from my intention. It makes me feel that I’ve repaid your kindness so badly. But I’ll make a clean breast of the whole affair.” She wiped her lips with her handkerchief. “In a way I’m glad it’s all come out. I’ve been dreadfully worried and scared about it ever since it happened. I haven’t been able to sleep properly. I found those notes on the very afternoon that Miss Delaney was murdered.” “Where?” rapped Bannister.