"What do you allege, then?" he cried in fierce anger, a dark, evil expression on his pale, drawn face. "I suppose you'll declare that I'm a murderer next!" "I allege that, at your instigation, a serious and desperate attempt was made, a short time ago, upon the life of my friend Boyd by ruffians who were well paid by you." "Another lie!" he blurted forth defiantly. "What?" I cried. "Is that the truth, Ambler? Was I entrapped at the instigation of this man?" "Yes. He had reasons for getting rid of you--as you will discern later." "I tell you it's an untruth!" shouted the old man, in a frenzy of rage. "Deny it if you will," answered my friend, with a nonchalant air. "It, however, may be interesting to you to know that the man 'Lanky Lane,' one of the desperate gang whom you bribed to call up Boyd on the night in question, is what is known at Scotland Yard as a policeman's 'nose,' or informer; and that he made a plain statement of the whole affair before he fell a victim to your carefully-laid plan by which his lips were sealed." In an instant I recollected that the costermonger of the London Road was one of the ruffians. The old man's lips compressed. He saw that he was cornered. The revelation that to his clever cunning was due the many remarkable features of the mystery held me utterly bewildered. At first it seemed impossible; but as the discussion grew more heated, and the facts poured forth from the mouth of the woman I loved, and from the man who was my best friend, I became convinced that at last the whole of the mysterious affair would be elucidated. One point, however, still puzzled me, namely, the inexplicable scene I had witnessed on the bank of the Nene. I referred to it; whereupon Ambler Jevons drew from his breast-pocket two photographs, and, holding them before the eyes of the trembling old man, said: