"You lived at Horriston? At the time of the murder?" Mrs. Bezel nodded; she was not yet sufficiently self-controlled for speech. "In that case," continued Claude eagerly, "you must know all the details of the crime." "Only those that were reported in the papers." "Still you must be acquainted with those concerned in the tragedy. With my father, with Jeringham, Denis Bantry, with Mona, his sister." "Yes," said Mrs. Bezel calmly; "I knew them all." "Have you any idea who committed the crime?" "Not the slightest." "But you must have some suspicions?" "Oh, yes! But they may be wrong. I believe that Mr. Jeringham had something to do with it." "Oh!" said Claude, remembering Hilliston's opinion, "some believe him to be guilty." "I cannot say for certain," replied Mrs. Bezel, shaking her head. "The flight of Mr. Jeringham certainly showed that he had something to conceal." "What kind of a man was Mr. Jeringham?" "Tall and fair. Amiable as a rule, but liable to violent passions." "Was he not in love with my mother before she married my father?" Mrs. Bezel turned away her head, and the color rose to her face. The nervous movement of her hands plucking at her dress showed how profoundly she was moved by this question. "I believe so. But she--Mrs. Larcher loved her husband." "Then why was my father jealous of Jeringham?" said Claude, who could not reconcile this statement with the evidence given at the trial. "How should I know?" cried Mrs. Bezel, turning on him with sudden passion. "If George Larcher had not been so blinded by jealousy he would have seen that there was nothing between them. Your mother knew Jeringham all his life; they were like brother and sister. It is true he wished to marry her, but when he saw that her heart was given to your father, he bowed to her decision. He came to Horriston as her friend, not as her lover." "But he was constantly with her." "Do you dare to speak thus of your mother, sir?" "I--I cannot help doing so," stammered Claude, startled by the anger in her voice. "God knows I wish to revere the memory of my mother, but I cannot help seeing that she was morally responsible for the tragedy." "She was not! She was not!" said Mrs. Bezel vehemently. "How dare you speak thus? Your father neglected her. He left her to the companionship of Mark Jeringham, while he indulged in his predilection for literary work. All day long he shut himself up in his study, and let his wife sit alone, and miserable. Was it any wonder, then, that she should turn to her old friend for consolation? There was nothing between them--nothing to which any Pharisee could have taken exception." "But surely my father was sufficiently sensible to see all this?" "He saw nothing, or what he did see was distorted by his jealousy. The police, in their endeavors to fix the crime on your mother, took the same view of the relations between her and Jeringham. Oh, I know what you read in those papers shown to you by Mr. Hilliston!"