Mr. Fuller passed over this latter statement to remark upon the first. “The question is, what is the truth? If Sorley is innocent, and I sincerely trust that he is, who murdered this unfortunate Baldwin?” “Morad-Bakche,” said Marie promptly. “Who is he? You never mentioned him before,” said Mrs. Fuller, startled. “Did I not?” observed Miss Inderwick with a lightness she was far from feeling. “Oh, he is an Indian who wants to get the jewels because he says that they belong to the royal family of Kam. He came down here and stopped a night at The Red Fox.” Mr. Fuller nodded. “I fancy I heard something about a foreigner staying there,” he said quietly, “in July last was it not?” Marie nodded. “He learned all about the peacock from Mrs. Verwin—the common talk of the village, that is.” “Oh that woman is a terrible gossip,” exclaimed Mrs. Fuller distressed. “I dread her tongue. What did she say exactly, my dear?” Marie reported the interview between herself and Mrs. Verwin and Alan, and shortly, the vicar and his wife were acquainted with the way in which Morad-Bakche had traced the peacock to Belstone and afterwards to London. “And I believe that he learned Mr. Grison had it,” finished Marie, “and must have tried to get it from him. A man like that is much more likely to murder a person than poor dear Uncle Ran, though he has his faults, and has always been horrid over my engagement to Alan.” “But are you really engaged to Alan?” asked the vicar sharply. “Yes, I am. Uncle Ran said that if Alan found the jewels that we could be married, so I look upon myself as being engaged to him.” “But Alan has never found the jewels,” objected Mrs. Fuller tremulously. “He may never find them, my dear.” “It doesn’t matter,” replied Marie, getting on her feet; “we shall marry all the same. But the first thing to be done is to save Uncle Ran, and I am doing what I can—that is, I intend to do what I can. Alan will work also, and Mr. Latimer, though he doesn’t seem to think Uncle Ran is innocent.’ “On the face of it it looks as though he were not,” said the vicar doubtfully, and rising in his turn, “however we can talk over the matter in the drawing-room.” “No,” said Marie standing very erect, and looking at the elderly pair with very bright eyes. “I am now going home to think out things.” “Oh, Marie, won’t you stay here?” “I think it is best to go home,” repeated the girl gently, but kissing the soft and withered old cheek. “I am all right with granny and Henny and Jenny to look after me. If Mr. Bakche comes I shan’t be afraid.” “My dear girl, you may suspect him wrongly,” said Mr. Fuller. “Well, other people are suspecting Uncle Ran wrongly,” retorted Miss Inderwick, “so that balances things. Now I must go away. Good-night Mr. Fuller; good-night, Mrs. Fuller. If I learn anything I shall come and tell you.”