"My own opinion exactly," responded Ormsby. "The scoundrel's countenance is enough of itself to proclaim him guilty." "If we were all judged by our looks, how few of us would escape condemnation," remarked Drelincourt dryly. "For my part, I am strongly inclined to believe in the fellow's innocence." "My dear Drelincourt, you surprise me," remarked his brother-in-law, as he crossed to the side table. "It is possible, Mr. Drelincourt," suggested the baronet, "That your suspicions point in some other direction." "No, I have no suspicions--none whatever. For all that, I have a sort of intuitive belief in Gumley's innocence." "Time will prove." "Possibly so. But there are some mysteries which time never solves." "My experience as a magistrate convinces me that they are few and far between. You remember what old Chaucer says: 'Murder will out, that see we day by day'--words as true now as they were five hundred years ago." Mr. Drelincourt looked slightly bored. Sir John consulted his watch. "Later than I thought. I have an appointment at Sunbridge, and am already overdue." "And I, too, must be off," remarked Ormsby. "I quite expect to find my wife in hysterics when I get home. She was awfully attached to poor Kitty." "For the present, then, goodby," said Sir John to Drelincourt, as he proffered his hand. "To attempt to condole with you under such a terrible blow would be an impertinence on my part; but this I must say--that you have my heartfelt sympathy." "Of that I am quite sure, Sir John." They shook hands cordially, and then Drelincourt crossed and rang the bell. "Ormsby, I shall see you in Sunbridge later in the day," said Sir John. Three seconds later he was gone, shown out by Simmons. "Now to get rid of this pompous fool," said Drelincourt to himself as he came forward. Now that the two were alone, Ormsby had resumed his most lugubrious expression. "Felix," he began, "I am at a loss for words wherewith to express a tithe of what I feel on this most heartrending occasion." "Then I wouldn't try to find any, if I were you. There are some things which won't bear talking about, and this is one of them." "That seems rather unfeeling, doesn't it?" "Are one's feelings to be gauged by the amount of talk one may give utterance to? Are there not occasions when silence may be the heart's most eloquent tribute?" "Possibly--possibly," replied Mr. Ormsby, with a little cough behind his hand. "I dare say you are right--from your point of view. If you would like Octavia to come and look after matters at the Towers for the next week or two, I am sure that she----" "Not for the world! I am a strange fellow, Ormsby, as I dare say you have found out before today. The more I am left to myself just at present, the better I shall be pleased." "Well, well, as you will. Still, I cannot but feel sure that my wife would have been a great comfort to you in your affliction. She is so truly sympathetic."