"Oh, yes, it is. When Miss Bull saw that the game was up she sat down and admitted that she had killed Mrs. Jersey. She also said that she was glad the truth had come to light, that she wished to die, and so on." "She was raving," said George, incredulously, not thinking any one would incriminate himself or herself so freely. "No, she wasn't. She told me the whole story in the calmest manner, just as though she were asking me to have a cup of tea. Then she asked me to send for you and sat down to play Patience." "I wonder you are not having her watched," said George, with scorn. "Oh, she won't run away," replied Bawdsey, easily, and not perceiving the irony of the remark. "Come along, Mr. Vane, we'll go down and see her. She is desperately anxious to see you." "Do any of the boarders know?" "Not yet, but they will when she is arrested." George shuddered and followed Bawdsey down the stairs. It seemed terrible to him that such a fragile little creature as Miss Bull should be subjected to this disgrace. He did not condone her crime. She had acted wrongly and must take the consequences. But he could not forget that she was Dorothy's aunt, and he wished he could see some way of rescuing her from this dreadful position. Miss Bull was--as Bawdsey had stated--playing Patience. Seated at the very table where her victim had sat, she dealt the cards, and seemed quite interested in the game. Margery was seated in a chair near at hand, looking with tearful eyes into the face of her friend. Beyond the fact that Miss Bull was whiter than usual, she showed no signs of emotion. "You have come, George," she said, addressing him by his name. "I am glad to see you. Mr. Bawdsey, you may go." The detective was taken aback and would have remonstrated, but Margery rose and approached him. "You have done your worst," she said, her eyes flashing. "Go, or I'll twist your neck." Bawdsey shrugged his shoulders, and with a glance at George went out. After all, he had heard the story before and did not particularly care to hear it again. Besides, Bawdsey was a kindly man, and he felt sorry that he had proceeded to such extremities. Miss Bull shuffled her pack of cards and laid them away in a box. "I shall play that game no more," she said. "I have been playing Patience all my life, but the end has come, and I am glad it has come. Hush, Margery," for the girl had burst into tears, "I will see that you are left well off and looked after, my dear." "I don't want that. I want you," sobbed the girl. She slipped to the floor and laid her head on Miss Bull's knee like a faithful dog. Miss Bull patted her head and allowed her to remain in this position while she spoke to George. Margery sobbed for a time, and then remained quiet, listening to every word, and quite content to feel the gentle hand of the old maid smoothing her hair. "I suppose you were astonished when Mr. Bawdsey told you?" said Miss Bull, looking with piercing eyes at Brendon.