"I did not know it was that," she retorted a trifle angrily. "I thought it would get you into safety and give you back to her." "But the telegram was an old one." She blushed at the note in his voice, and looked at him defiantly. "Yes," she said. "I sent it, and then--changed my mind. I got it back again before it reached you by intercepting the boy and bribing him with half a crown and the truth that I had sent it and then regretted it afterward. I had--my reasons!" Sir Edgar looked away, as she lowered her head. "But your good sense got the better of you later on, eh? And so you sent it along by a private messenger? I see----" She lifted her head and looked at him very squarely in the eyes. "Yes," she said. "I changed my mind again." A moment's silence followed, then Bobby Wynne spoke. "But I never knew a thing about Blake's impersonation, Jen," he said, apologetically, "and I never guessed you'd go so far as to blackmail for me! I--I'm a bit of a rotter I know, but I'd never have let you do _that_!" "I know you wouldn't," she responded with a sudden smile as she looked at the boy's pale, shamed face. "You see," turning to the others, "I promised father always to look after him so that when I found a letter from Blake, telling Bobby to meet him at Cheyne Court, what else could I do but follow and go inside for the second time? I got into the house, but I was too late. I heard the sound of quarrelling though I couldn't tell if it were Bobby or not. So I hid myself on the landing until the voices stopped suddenly. I didn't dare to move, but I heard someone run upstairs right past where I had hidden myself in the landing linen cupboard. Then I got out and looked from the window. In the lane I saw Lady Brenton and recognized her gold scarf. What's more I saw Sir Edgar, too, and that frightened me! Then I went down myself and peeped in the dining room----" She broke off with a little shudder of terror and Lady Margaret bent over and squeezed her hand impulsively. "I could see the figure of Blake in his woman's clothes lying in the chair. I was just about to go over to him when a woman came through the window. She snatched up a revolver from the desk beside the window and shot straight at Blake. "'You shan't do us, you devil, so don't you think it!' she cried, and threw the revolver down at Blake's side. I nearly died of fright for I recognized it as one that Miss Cheyne had treasured. It had belonged to Sir Edgar's father, she told me so herself once." "It must have been Blake's own," interrupted Sir Edgar, in tones of deep conviction, "for I had the other one. Miss Cheyne threatened me with it a month ago, and I snatched it away and brought it home with me. But go on, Miss Wynne please."