"Oh! Then you believe that the writer--if not yourself--has certain grounds upon which to accuse my brother of murder?" "I don't know the writer and I don't know the grounds. Any other man would have lost his temper at the insult you have offered. But being in love with you, I forgive your unfair suspicions. Still, in justice to myself, I shall take my leave, as I cannot inflict upon you the company of a man of whom you think so meanly." "One moment," said Clarice, who could not tell if he was really innocent, or if he was acting a part. "What would you do about the letter if you were me?" "I should obey the writer," said Jerce, promptly. "Ah! Then you _have_ an interest in stopping my marriage?" "I have. I would do anything in my power to break off your engagement with Ackworth." "So that I could marry you?" "Precisely." "I believe you wrote the letter, after all," said Clarice, between her clenched teeth. "I defy you to look me in the face and deny it." "I do look you in the face, and I do deny it," said Jerce, coldly; "but the writer of that letter has done me a good turn, and I thank him." "How do you know it is a man?" Sir Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know; I only surmise." "Surmise what?" "That a man wrote it." "Why not a woman?" sneered Clarice. "Why not, indeed. You know as much about the matter as I do." Beaten by his imperturbability, the girl adopted another mode of attack. "Why should Ferdy be accused?" "I don't know, unless it is that Ferdy lives a wild life, as I told you, and would do much for money." "For money? What do you mean?" "I mean that the forty thousand pounds is yet unaccounted for." "Oh, and Ferdy murdered Uncle Henry for that money?" "The writer accuses him of the crime," said Jerce, quietly. "I am not prepared to endorse the accusation, as I know nothing." "But I know," cried Clarice, vehemently. "Ferdy was locked in his room by me on the night of the crime, because he had been taking too much to drink." "You had better answer this letter and say so," retorted Jerce. "To whom should I write--to what address?" "I can't say," he answered, steadily, "but you will be wise if you break off your engagement with Captain Ackworth. Ferdinand may be innocent in one way, and yet guilty in another." "Explain." "He may be an accomplice after the fact." "Doctor," cried Clarice, rising quickly, "you know something." "I know nothing, save that Ferdy lives a wild and fast life, and is of an undisciplined nature." He walked to the door. "I take my leave with a last warning. Obey that anonymous note, and give up Ackworth, or else--" "Or else?" questioned Clarice, eagerly. "Or else Ferdinand may be hanged." CHAPTER XVIII THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS