"It will be safe there," replied Fanks, getting up and fetching a decanter of brandy from the sideboard. "Nothing will induce me to believe that you had anything to do with the commission of this crime." "Will you swear to that?" cried Hersham, stretching out a shaking hand. "Certainly if it will comfort you. Here, my friend, drink this, and tell me what you know. It may help me to nab the person I have my eye on." Hersham drank the brandy. "Have you found out who killed Fellenger?" Fanks shrugged his shoulders. "I think so," he said, "but who can tell; I may be wrong." "Is it a man or woman?" asked Hersham, quickly. "I shan't tell you." "Is it--" "I shan't tell you, my friend. But I shall tell you this for the quieting of your fears, that it is not you whom I suspect. Now sit down again, and let me hear what you have to say." Hersham resumed his seat obediently, and began his recital. He confessed exactly what Fanks expected he would confess; what Fanks already knew, but the detective listened to this twice-told tale with the keenest attention. Thereby he hoped to learn some new detail which had been overlooked by the zealous Berry Jawkins. "About the beginning of June," said Hersham, in a hesitating voice, "I was engaged on a series of papers for the 'Morning Planet' on Street Music. To gain the information I required, I thought it would be an excellent plan to go about the streets of London in guise, and to get at the root of the matter. I told my editor that I would burnt-cork my face and go with some street minstrels. He approved of the idea, and I did so." "And how were you dressed?" "In a great coat with brass buttons. I also wore brown boots. Now, you can see why I was afraid to tell you. That is the dress the negro you are looking for wore." "Yes!" said Flanks, perplexedly, "I know that; but I do not see why you should have been afraid to tell me. You can explain your movements on that night." "That is exactly what I can't do," said Hersham, his face growing dark. "I don't understand." "I shall explain. On the night of the twenty-first I intended to go out in the streets in disguise. Before doing so, I told the office boy that if a telegram came for me he was to bring it at once to me; I expected a wire about six o'clock; and I told the boy that I would be in the Strand near St. Clements Church." "From whom did you expect the telegram?" "From Anne Colmer. That day I had received a letter from her, saying that she was greatly worried about something; what it was she did not tell me; but she said that if she wanted me she would wire, and that I was then to come down at once to Taxton-on-Thames." "Go on," said Fanks, greatly interested in the introduction of Anne's name. "Well, I blacked my face, and went out with the genuine niggers to sing and play. About six, or a little after, I was near St. Clement's Church, and there the office boy came to me with a telegram." "Why did you expect the telegram at six?"