"Drelincourt, never in the whole course of my life have I been shocked as you have just shocked me," said the baronet. "I am utterly at a loss for words. I--I know not what to say." His agitation and distress were unmistakable. "Then say nothing, Sir John, that will be the wisest course. Yes, I, and I alone, am the man," Drelincourt repeated. "But this I must add in self-justification--so far as such a deed is open to justification--that what I did was done when I could hardly be said to be answerable for my actions. From my youth I have been addicted to occasionally walking in my sleep, and it was in a fit of somnambulism that I killed my wife." The baronet's face brightened. "Have you any witnesses to prove that such was the case?" he eagerly asked. "Not one," replied Drelincourt, with a shrug. "As you may perhaps remember, my temporary quarters at the time were at a little shanty of mine called the Cot?" Sir John nodded assent. "On the fatal morning I rose in my sleep, dressed myself in my sleep, and, still asleep, I walked from the Cot to the Towers. But no eye saw me enter the house--which I did through a side door by means of my master key--no eye saw me do the deed, and no eye saw me quit the house after it was done." "And no judge and jury would credit such a cock and bull story for one moment," broke in Ormsby, with a brutal laugh. "For once, Ormsby, you and I are fully agreed," answered Drelincourt, with a thin smile. Then, turning again to the baronet: "And now, Sir John, I must ask you to allow me to have a quarter of an hour alone with my wife, after which I shall be entirely at your disposal." "Does she--does Mrs. Drelincourt know of this?" "With her the suspicion of such a thing is as far removed as Heaven is from hell." "Poor lady! Poor unhappy lady!" The words smote Drelincourt as an ice cold wind might have done. A shiver went through him from head to foot. Ormsby could no longer contain himself. "So, then, we have got the truth at last!" he burst out, a dull gleam of vindictive malice lighting up his little white lashed eyes. "At last the foul mystery which shrouded my poor sister's fate is dispelled, and the man who, in cold blood--for I tell you plainly that I attach not the slightest credit to your sleep walking rigmarole--slew the innocent being he had sworn to love and cherish through life stands revealed to the world as the miscreant he really is!" "Ormsby--for God's sake----" broke in Sir John. But Ormsby went on without heeding him. "For twenty years my sister's blood has cried aloud for vengeance, but, thank Heaven, it has not cried in vain! For twenty years the gallows has been waiting, and at length it shall be satisfied. The day you are hung, Drelincourt, shall be kept by me and mine as a holiday and festival, and so shall every anniversary of it be kept as long as I live."