"I don't know. He might or he might not. Do you think that this cross has anything to do with the murder you are investigating?" "That is just what I do think," retorted Fanks. "The man was killed by means of a poisoned needle used to prick in a cross similar to that on your arm." "But that insinuates that I am mixed up in the matter." "It does nothing of the sort. Don't be an ass." But Hersham was not content with this friendly assurance. "You think that I have something to do with the crime," he said obstinately. Fanks looked at his agitated face, at his trembling hands, and a strange suspicion entered his mind. "I'll tell you what I do think," he said in an abrupt tone; "I think that you have not told me all the truth." Hersham trembled still more, and clasped his hands together. "I cannot," he muttered, shrinking away from Fanks; "I dare not." CHAPTER XIV. FANKS MAKES UP HIS MIND. Naturally Fanks was astonished at this confession; but he was so conversant with the character of the young man that he could not believe the journalist was guilty. Despite the coincidence of the tattooed cross and the relationship of Fellenger's wife with Anne Colmer, he did not think for a moment that his friend had anything to do with the crime. Nevertheless, it would appear from the hesitation of Hersham to speak openly that he had some knowledge--if not of the crime itself--at all events of the circumstances leading to its accomplishment. This was the only construction he could place on this last outburst. "After what I have said, Hersham, I think you ought to confide in me," he remarked after a pause. "I do not suspect you in any way; yet you refuse to aid me. You ought to be the first to help me." "I do not see how you make that out," replied Hersham, with a pale face. "I never met with Sir Gregory. I heard nothing but evil of his life, and he drove to suicide the sister of the girl to whom I am engaged. Why should I help you?" "Ah!" cried Fanks, sharply; "then you can help me if you choose." "I certainly cannot," returned Hersham, doggedly. "I have not the slightest idea who killed Fellenger. I can tell you nothing." "Yes, you can; only you refuse to. Why I cannot say. You had better be careful, Hersham; you will not find me easy to deal with if you rouse my suspicions." "Do you threaten me?" "I warn you," retorted Fanks, smartly, "I am not accustomed to have my offers of help repelled. Your remark of a few moments ago shows me that you know something. What is it?" "I know nothing." "You do! Speak, if not for your own sake, at least for that of Miss Colmer." Hersham stepped up to Fanks with an angry face. "How dare you introduce the name of Miss Colmer?" he cried. "I forbid you to speak of her." "All the worse for you and for--her. She called at the chambers of the dead man. Why did she call there? She was at Tooley's Alley on the night of the murder. What was she doing in such a place? You refuse to tell me? I shall ask her."