"I think it will be best that your words should be taken down by the machine," said Durham, turning to Mrs. Gilroy, "as the writer can keep up with your speech." "As you please," said Mrs. Gilroy, coolly. "I have to sign my statement in the presence of witnesses, you and this young man." "But why do you----" "There, there," said the woman, impatiently, "don't I tell you I have very little strength left. Are you ready?" "Yes, madam," said the clerk, who was addressed. "Then don't interrupt. I am about to tell you strange things," and she began forthwith, the clerk taking down all she said as quickly as she spoke. Durham, pencil in hand, made a note occasionally. "I am a foundling," said Mrs. Gilroy, smoothly and swiftly. "I was picked up by some gypsies called Lovel, in the New Forest. I was with them till I came of age. I was then a pretty girl. In our wanderings we came to Hurseton. There I saw Walter Gore at a fair. I did not know he was married, as we stopped at Hurseton only a short time. We went away. Walter followed and said he loved me. He married me at last. We went abroad--then came back to London. When my child, Michael, was born, I learned the truth, for Walter had deserted me. I went down to Hurseton to see Sir Simon. He sent me to the States with Michael, my son. Walter sent me money." "This is slightly different to what Michael said," remarked Durham. "I understood that you never saw Sir Simon till you returned from the States." "Michael doesn't know everything," said Mrs. Gilroy, impatiently. "I tell my own story in my own way. Do not interrupt. I remained in the States for a long time. Then Walter died, and his true wife also. I came to see Sir Simon again. He was sorry for me, and offered to make me the housekeeper at Gore Hall, which should have been my home, but he insisted that Michael should return to the States. My boy did so, in charge of some friends. Sir Simon promised to give me five hundred a year when he died, so that I could help my boy. He only left me one hundred, the mean villain! I supported my son out of my wages. He grew weary of the States and came to England. Sir Simon was angry, but he got him a situation in London, on condition that the boy never came to Hurseton. That was why no one knew there was any one resembling Sir Bernard so closely. Well, in London Michael fell in with Julius Beryl----" "I know all that," said Durham, quickly. "Michael told me. I know he was employed by Beryl to impersonate Bernard so that Sir Simon's anger should be aroused." "Well, then, you know a good deal," said Mrs. Gilroy, "but not all. No, indeed," she added, smiling strangely, "not all." "Tell me the events of that night, and how Beryl killed Sir Simon."