"I am afraid that Crate will have to go to Bombay, after all," said Fanks to himself as he left the hotel. He did not go at once to town, as he wished to see both Hersham and Anne Colmer; also he was desirous of having an interview with the mother. Half-way down the street he met with the journalist, who saluted him in rather a sullen fashion. "I was just about to call on you," said Hersham. "I wish to go to town by the midday train, if you have no objection." "You can go as soon as you please," retorted Fanks, "you are not so much good to me that I care to keep you here." "You need not make yourself so infernally disagreeable, Fanks," said the young man, tartly. "I have told you all I know, and so has Miss Colmer." "As to that, I have my own opinion, Hersham. I certainly think that you and she have a secret between you which you will not share with me." "It does not concern you." "Ah, you have a secret, then?" "Yes, I have, but it is private business, and has nothing to do with the death of that titled scoundrel." "I should like to judge of that for myself," said Fanks, coldly. "However, I daresay I'll find out all I wish to know without your assistance." Hersham came forward, and laid his hand on the arm of the detective. "I say, Fanks," he observed, earnestly, "I know I'm not treating you well, but you must make allowances for the natural fear I feel at being brought into contact with the law. I know something; and I should like to tell it to you, but I can't make up my mind to do so--yet. Still, I give you my word of honour that if you ask me again next week I shall tell you all; I shall place my life and liberty in your hands." "Good heavens, man!" cried the startled Fanks. "You don't mean to say that you are concerned in the murder?" "No, I am not, but when I tell you all, you will see why I did not speak before. Give me a week to make up my mind." "I'll give you the week," said the detective, briefly, and without further speech, Hersham took his leave in an abrupt manner, evidently relieved to be so dismissed. On presenting himself at Briar Cottage, Fanks was at once admitted, and was shown by the servant--a neat-handed Phyllis--into a different sitting-room from the one he had seen before. In a large chair by the window which looked out on the garden, an old lady was seated. She was dressed completely in white; and the lower part of her body was swathed in a shawl of Chinese crape. Her face was pale and careworn, and her eyes were red-rimmed as from constant crying. An open Bible lay on her lap, and from this she raised her eyes as Fanks entered. He had little hesitation in guessing that this was Mrs. Colmer, the paralytic mother of the living Anne and the dead Emma. "You must excuse my rising to receive you," she said in a low and sweet voice, "but I am unable to move hand or foot. Doubtless, my daughter has told you of my affliction. My daughter will see you presently."