"Particularly for a crime of which he is guiltless," said Paul. "By the way, Iris, you will have to return to Barnstead to-morrow for the funeral." "We are both going over," said Mrs. Mexton, patting the head of Iris. "Poor Milly!" And then they fell to talking about Milly and her many good qualities; also about her beauty and charm. No mention was made of her faults, seeing that she was dead, and that it is not well to speak evil of those who have gone. Mrs. Mexton exalted Milly into a martyr, and Iris endorsed the canonisation with tears. In the midst of this glorification Paul slipped out and went to the office of the "Tory Times" for a long night's work. He arrived back in the small hours of the morning when Iris had retired; and left for Barnstead after eight o'clock, before she was up. Therefore he did not see her again till the afternoon, when he met her in Barnstead Cemetery at the funeral of her unfortunate half-sister. As usual, Paul rode over to Barnstead. Independent of his journalistic earnings he had a small income, and it did not cost much to keep a horse in the country. Riding was a great passion with the young man; and he always declared that he thought better when in the saddle than in the study. On this perfect summer morning, however, he was less occupied with fiction than with real life. The murder case absorbed his every thought, and he recognised that the mystery of Milly's case could hardly have been surpassed in the detective novel of the day. He was determined to discover who had killed the girl; and passed rapidly through Barnstead towards Clyde's Farm in order to see the lady, and ascertain what amount of truth there was in Brent's story. The residence of Miss Clyde was a long, low house, with whitewashed walls and a thatched roof, eminently picturesque, but not at all practical. There was a homely flower-garden before it, filled with marigolds, sweet-williams, southernwood and such-like Old English flowers; these being the peculiar care of Mrs. Drass, who blended gossip with horticulture. When Paul rode up to the gate, she was pottering about with a trowel in her hand, and came to the gate to meet him: but keen-eyed Paul Mexton noted that she did not seem overpleased at his visit. "This is a surprise, Mr. Mexton!" said she, as he alighted from his horse, and tied the reins to the gatepost. "It is rarely that you honour us with a visit--especially at so early an hour." "I must apologise for the hour," said Paul, entering the house, conducted by the ex-governess, "but I have to see Miss Clyde on important business." "About what?" asked Mrs. Drass sharply. "Pardon me, dear madam," replied Paul, thwarting this curiosity with great blandness, "but I shall explain that to Miss Clyde herself."