"She did?" muttered Clarice, wondering if Zara had betrayed her disguise. But Osip's next words reassured her. "Of course she did. You wanted to get out of marrying her, and she was forced to make use of her knowledge to make you consent. I understand how she coerced you; but how did Jerce?" "He did not." "Yes, he did. You never murdered Horran of your own free will. Jerce wanted money, I suppose?" "Jerce has plenty of money." "No doubt. He earns a lot, and he borrows a lot, and he steals a lot, Mr. Baird. Why do you try to stand up for Jerce? I have been watching him for weeks, and I have been making enquiries in all sorts of quarters. I know much that goes on, owing to the faculties I have, for discovering things people would rather were kept quiet. Jerce, to the world, is a genial philanthropist, and a famous physician. But you know, as I know, that he is one of the fastest men in London, and a complete scoundrel, and under the rose has spent no end of money on worthless women. His pretended visits to Whitechapel were all bosh. He really went on the spree. I wonder he has not been found out long ago. You must have found him out, living in the same house with him, Mr. Baird. Did Jerce make you murder Horran, or did Barras?" "Barras?" said Clarice, still more surprised, and wondering how much of this was true. The whole story seemed too terrible to be believed. "Barras is quite as bad as Jerce, as I happen to know. I am going to see that lawyer, and utilise my knowledge of his shady doings, to make him part, Mr. Baird. England is getting too hot for me, so I intend to leave the country. But Barras and Jerce are in league in some way. Barras is Horran's lawyer, so their league may have something to do with the property." "Perhaps it has," murmured Clarice, white as a corpse under her mask. She felt that it would be impossible to sustain her manly character much longer under these accumulated horrors. "Pah!" said Osip, scornfully, as he rose to his feet. "What is the use of pretending? You know everything, as I do. I don't care if you did murder Horran, as I commit murders myself, and have a fellow-feeling for such daring. In fact, I rather admire you, Mr. Baird, and if I could remain in England I should propose a partnership, since my partners are dead. There's heaps of money to be made with the Purple Fern yet, you know." "What a villain you are!" cried Clarice, involuntarily. "Pooh! You say that because you are new to the criminal business. I am no more a villain than a swindling stockbroker in the city, or one of your pious, chapel-going hypocrites who sweat those they employ. You must get rid of your conscience, if you want to succeed, Mr. Baird, although I admit that you have made an excellent start. It was a clever idea to use the Purple Fern stamp, to shift the murder of Horran on to my shoulders. I know that I am accused, but _you_ know that I am innocent." "Of this crime, perhaps, but not of others."