"You will be grieved, Hyacinth," she said; "but that you will be sure to hear of it sooner or later, I would not tell you one word. Do you remember young Claude Lennox, who was visiting his uncle? He came over to the Chase several times." "I remember him," she replied, vaguely conscious of her own words--for a terrible dread was over her. She could have cried aloud in her anguish, "What is it--oh, what is it?" "Appearances are against him, certainly," continued Lady Vaughan, in her calm tone--oh, would she never finish?--"but I cannot think him guilty." "Guilty of what?" asked Hyacinth; and the sound of her own voice frightened her as it left her rigid lips. "Guilty of murder, my dear. It is a strange case. It appears that the very day after we left the Chase, a dreadful murder was discovered at Leybridge--a woman was found cruelly murdered under a hedge in one of the fields near the station. In the poor woman's clinched hand was a handkerchief, with the name 'Claude Lennox' upon it. On searching further the police found his address, 'Claude Lennox, 200 Belgrave Square,' written in pencil on a small folded piece of paper. The woman's name is supposed to be Anna Barratt. Circumstantial evidence is very strong against Claude. One of the porters at Leybridge Station swears that he saw him walk with a woman in the direction of the fields; a laboring man swears that he saw him returning alone to Oakton Park in the early dawn of the morning; and the colonel's servants say he was absent from Oakton the whole night." "Still, that may only be circumstantial evidence," said Sir Arthur, "though it is strongly against him. Why should he kill a woman who was quite a stranger to him, as he solemnly swears she was?" "Who, then, was with him at the station? You see, three people swear to have noticed him leave Leybridge Station with a woman whom none of them recognized." They might perhaps have continued the discussion, but a slight sound disturbed them, and, looking round, they saw that Hyacinth had fallen to the floor. She had risen from her seat with a ghastly face and burning eyes; her white lips had opened to say, "It is not Claude who killed her, but her husband." She tried to utter the words, but her voice was mute, and then with outstretched arms she fell face foremost to the ground in a dead swoon. Adrian ran to her; he raised her--he looked in wondering alarm at the colorless face with its impress of dread and fear. "It has frightened her almost to death," he said. "Did she know this Claude Lennox, Lady Vaughan?" "Yes, very slightly; we met him once or twice at Oakton Park, and he called at the Chase. But I did not like him. I kept Hyacinth carefully out of his way." "What can we do for her?" he asked, in a trembling voice. "Nothing," said Lady Vaughan. "Do not call the servants; they make such a fuss about anything of this kind. Let the fresh air blow over her."