These meetings had been arranged by Clarice, who could see no other way to clear up the many mysteries which seemed to environ the death of Henry Horran. It was necessary to take some steps, to come to some decision, and as speedily as possible, for it was likely that Osip, out of revenge for the trick Clarice had played him, would inform Scotland Yard of Ferdy's guilt. So Clarice, clothed in her mourning for the dead man, waited in silence and in sorrow. Never would she forget the return journey on the previous night. After being revived by a glass of brandy, Anthony had taken her at once in a cab to Liverpool Street Station, and there they had been fortunate enough to catch a late train to the Junction. Ackworth had telegraphed for a closed brougham, and in this he drove with Clarice to Crumel, some miles distant. Then, after he had seen her safely in the hands of Mrs. Rebson, he had departed in the fly for Gattlinsands, promising to bring over Ferdy on the afternoon of the ensuing day. All that could be done had been done, and now Clarice waited with a sick heart for the coming interviews with Ferdy and Jerce. Both promised to be stormy ones. Exactly as the clock struck four, Ferdy's voice, gay and bright, was heard in the hall. Clarice shuddered as she heard him. It was extraordinary to her that Ferdy could laugh at all, seeing what he had on his conscience. But he entered quite gaily, smiling and brisk, with Anthony at his heels, looking grave. When the boy had kissed his sister, he commented on Ackworth's low spirits, gaily. "I can't make out what's up with Anthony," said he, taking a seat by the fire and poking the coals into a blaze. "He came back late last night, looking like an owl. I was playing snooker with Flanigan, and he didn't even take an interest in the game, although I made some ripping shots. What's the matter with him?" "You are--" said Clarice, indignantly. Ferdy dropped the poker with a clatter. "I am?" he echoed. "Why, what do you mean?"--he glanced at Ackworth. "I say, old chap, what's the joke? Have I been doing anything wrong?" Ackworth shrugged his shoulders and walked to the window. Then he glanced at his watch, and mentally noted that Jerce's train was almost due. If Ferdy was to be disposed of, before the doctor arrived it would be necessary to make him confess at once. Ferdy eyed Anthony in astonishment, but no reason for this pointed silence occurred to his shallow brain. He turned to his sister. "I say, Clarry!--" "Sit down!" she commanded, harshly. "What do you mean?" he flushed up. "Don't speak to me in that way." Anthony crossed the room rapidly, and, taking Ferdy by the shoulders, made him sit down. "You must not speak to your sister in that manner, while I am by," he declared, sternly. "You are about to be spoken to, in a way you won't like." "Then I'll go," raged Ferdy, evading Ackworth's grip, and making for the door. "How dare you lay hands on me--how dare you?"