"Oh, yes; it is called, as Herne told me, 'The Society of the Rainbow Feather.'" "What!" cried Paul, jumping up. "The Rainbow Feather?" "You are excited," said Lester. "Excited!" echoed Paul, walking hurriedly to and fro--"I have every reason to be so! Do you know that a rainbow feather was found by Herne on the very spot where Milly lay dead?" "What of that?" asked Lester, whose slow brain could not follow Paul's idea. "Can't you see--Catinka must have dropped that feather there!" "But she is in London!" "She was in Barnstead on the night of the murder," replied Paul, sharply; "and by the evidence of that feather she must have been in the Winding Lane on the night of the murder." "I can't see her reason." "I can. She heard that Herne was engaged to Milly and came down to see her. She followed her to the Winding Lane, and, for all I know, shot her." "Why should she shoot Milly?" cried Lester, rising. "I don't know; I can't say. I must find out. Lester, not a word of this to anyone. You return to Barnstead with Iris, and I'll go up to London to-morrow." "To see Catinka?" "Yes, and Herne. What; you don't know? Herne has gone up to London also, about that feather. I am sure of it, though I have no proof. I'll call at Bloomsbury Square, and find out the truth about him and Catinka. Also, I'll know why she came to Barnstead, and what she was doing in the Winding Lane." "But how can you get her to speak?" "How? By means of the Rainbow Feather, of course!" CHAPTER XVI. CATINKA. Before Iris departed for Barnstead with her stepfather, she contrived to have a short talk with Paul. The girl was touched by the kindly way in which her old playfellow had behaved to Dr. Lester and herself in their trouble; and she wished to thank him for his disinterested zeal. Seizing the opportunity when her step-father was conversing with Miss Clyde, she took Mexton by the hand. "How can I ever thank you for all you have done?" she said. Her face was flushed with a rosy hue, her eyes sparkled like stars; and at the moment, stirred by generous emotion, Iris Link was a beautiful woman. Paul had never noted the fact before--perhaps from long familiarity with her face, and an unavoidable comparison of it with the brilliant beauty of the dead Milly. The revelation of the soul which rendered her beautiful came on him with unexpected force, and he wondered how he could have been so blind as not to have admired her before. In that moment love germinated with unexpected suddenness in his soul; and he pressed the girl's hand warmly. "Don't thank me at all, my dear," he said in a low voice. "I am only too glad to help you and yours." "Will you come to Barnstead this evening, Paul?" "No, Iris. I have a great deal of work to get through before going to London." "You are going to London?" "To-morrow morning. I fancy I have a clue to the identity of the person who killed Milly." "Does the clue guide you to London?"