"You tried to blackmail me, also. That was why we quarrelled; that was why you were going away next week. And I dare swear, Binjoy," added Sir Louis, quietly, "that had you gone, you would have found means to betray me to the police. That is why I have told Mr. Fanks everything. You cannot harm me now. "Don't you be too sure of that," growled Binjoy; "you have got to clear yourself of suspicion." "Sir Louis has cleared himself in my eyes," said Fanks. "But you have yet to explain what became of the poisoned needle." "I do not know; I missed it as did Sir Louis, but I do not know who took it. You can't prove that I committed the crime." "I am not sure of that," said Fanks, coolly. "See here, Dr. Binjoy, you wanted Sir Louis to get the Fellenger estates so that you could handle the money. Sir Louis can prove that much. You had access to this poisoned needle with which the crime was committed; you went up to London on the evening of the twenty-first of June; you repaired to the Red Star about the time the deed was committed; you lied about your name; you took a pretended voyage; you sent your negro to Bombay in order to throw the suspicion on him. Now you attempt to blackmail Sir Louis--you and Turnor--by threatening to accuse him of committing a crime of which he is guiltless. From my own soul I believe that he is the victim of conspiracy; I believe that you lured him up to Great Auk Street to entangle him in the matter. And," added Fanks, rising, "I believe that you, in disguise of a negro, killed Sir Gregory Fellenger with that poisoned needle." "I did not. I swear I did not. It is all a mistake," gasped the wretched man. "Ask Turnor." "The other blackguard, the other blackmailer? No, thank you. He would only lie to me as you are doing. You are guilty. Confess your share in this crime. Confess the mystery of the tattooed cross." "The tattooed cross? What do you know about the tattooed cross?" "More than you think," returned Fanks, significantly. "What about Madaline Garry and her revenge?" Binjoy's eyes seemed to be starting out of his head with terror and surprise. His face was of a deathly paleness, and great drops of perspiration rolled down his cheeks. He tried to speak, but the words rattled in his throat, and with a gasp the man, strong as he was, fainted quietly in the chair. He had been struck down by his own terrors; rendered insensible by an instinctive knowledge of his danger. "What do you intend to do, Mr. Fanks?" asked Louis, looking at the inanimate form of Binjoy with strong distaste. "Arrest this man?" "I do. I shall send a telegram to London to get a detective down. In the meantime--I shall stay here so as not to lose sight of him."