It was not until the phaeton was making the homeward circuit and had just come abreast of the wall of Westwood Court, that a word was exchanged between Agnes and Clare. All the interest of the girl was once more awakened when she learned that Claude Westwood had been born in that great house which was just visible through the trees of the park, and that he was now the owner of all. “And the murder--it was done among those trees?” said Clare, in a whisper. Agnes nodded. “The wretch--the wretch! What punishment would be too great for the monster who did that deed?” cried Clare, with something akin to passion in her voice. “Mr. Westwood told you of it?” said Agnes. “He did not need to tell me of it,” replied the girl. “I had read all about it at Cairo.” “Of course. You got the English newspapers there.” “Very rarely; strange to say, a copy of a newspaper containing a paragraph referring to the reprieve of the murderer was sent to my mother by some one in England. I saw the paper by chance. It had not been sent to her because of that paragraph, of course; but on account of some other piece of news.” “Then you knew who it was that sent the paper?” “That was the mystery. It troubled mother for some time thinking who could have sent it.” “But she knew why it had been sent to her--she knew what was the particular paragraph it contained of interest to her?” “I don't think that she was quite certain on that point; but she came to the conclusion that it was on account of a paragraph referring to the production of an opera in London in which a friend of mine--of ours, I mean--had taken the tenor _rôle_.” “Ah; a friend of yours? What is his name?” “His name is Giro Rodani; he was one of the maestro's pupils. We used to sing duets under the guidance of the maestro; it was good for both of us, he said, and so, I suppose, it was. At any rate Giro got his engagement, and perhaps he sent mother that newspaper. He certainly sent me the six papers that praised his singing. He didn't send those that were not quite so complimentary: it was the maestro who sent them to me.” “The paper may have been addressed to you; it is not a matter of importance. You would probably never have recollected reading the paragraph about the reprieve of the man if you had not met Mr. Westwood a few months afterwards.” “I certainly should have forgotten all about it; but now--well, now it is different. And it was among those trees the terrible deed was done?” “Yes, it was among those trees. I have not been near the place since it happened.” “It was horrible--horrible! And yet they did not hang the man--they gave the wretch his life!” The girl spoke almost fiercely--almost in the same tone as Claude Westwood's had been when denouncing the man. Agnes gave a little cry. “Do not say that--for God's sake do not say that,” she said. “Ah, if you only knew what you are saying!” “If I only knew!” cried Clare, in a tone of astonishment.