"Yes," replied the Squire and looking round the gorgeously-coloured room, at the evidence of wealth and luxury spread out on every hand. "I feel immensely better. I suppose I shall pick up soon." "If you follow the advice I shall leave with you, I think you will," said Herrick with intention and stared at the fire. "What do you mean Jim? You don't intend to--" "Ah, but I do though Steve. I cannot stay with anyone who does not trust me wholly. I want to be your friend. Your step-mother asked me to look after you. I promised to do what I could, but unless you give me your unreserved confidence, it is useless for me to remain." Stephen rose agitated and began to pace the room. "I trust you in every way Jim; you know I do." "I know nothing of the sort Steve. You trust Bess though." "Ah! She has told you?" cried Marsh-Carr angrily. "No! she has told me nothing. But I am not a fool Steve and I have eyes in my head. I saw that she was as sad as you, and by putting two and two together I became certain that there was something between you to make both sad. Bess would not tell me anything, nor did I ask her. She is a loyal little woman. Still from her manner I guessed there was a secret. I am certain," added Herrick looking steadily at his friend, "that such a secret can only have to do with the death of your uncle. Now, as I am looking after this case you must tell me what you know. If you do not, I shall throw up the matter and leave you. I must be trusted all in all, or not at all, my friend." While Herrick was speaking Stephen had sat down. He changed from red to white from white to red again and his breathing became short and hard. He saw that Herrick was in earnest, and that he would either have to tell or lose his friend. In a tumult of anxiety he rose again and began to pace the room. "You put me to a hard test," he cried. "Perhaps I do," replied Dr. Jim calmly, "but it is to prove your friendship and your manhood. Tell me the truth." "You will despise me if I do," said Marsh-Carr thoughtlessly and regretted the words almost as soon as they had left his mouth. Herrick appeared unmoved although he was inwardly surprised. "I do not think anything you could say or do would make me despise you," he said in his calmest tone. "I know you too well to think you would do anything dishonourable. Come what is it?" But Stephen still remained silent, his eyes on the ground, He was debating whether he would go on or not. Herrick saw his hesitation and guessed its cause. "You have got over the worst now," he said soothingly. "Come along, Steve. Sit down and tell me." "No," replied Stephen hoarsely, "I prefer to stand up." Then suddenly. "It was I who fired those three shots into the body of my uncle." "Was it?" said Herrick quietly. "And why did you do that." "Because I was mad at the time?" "Had you not better tell me the whole affair? Then I shall be in a position to judge of your madness."