"Thank God!" cried Cyril. "I always knew she was innocent." His relief was so intense that it robbed him of all power of concealment. Amy's mouth hardened into a straight, inflexible line; her eyes narrowed. "I suppose that you have some fact to support your extraordinary assertion?" demanded Griggs, unable to hide his vexation at finding that his rival had evidently outwitted him. "Certainly, but I will say no more till I have his Lordship's permission. He is my employer, you know." "What difference does that make?" asked Cyril. "I am more anxious than any one to discover the truth." "Permit me to suggest, my lord, that it would be better if I could first speak to you in private." "Nonsense," exclaimed Cyril impatiently. "I am tired of this eternal secrecy. Tell us what you have found out." The detective's brows contracted slightly. "Very well, only remember, I warned you." "That's all right." "Have you forgotten, my lord, that I told you I always had an idea that those two Frenchmen who were staying at the Red Lion Inn, were somehow implicated in the affair?" "But what possible motive could they have had for murdering my cousin?" demanded Cyril. The detective's eyes appeared to wander aimlessly from one of his auditors to another. "We are waiting. What about those Frenchmen?" It was Amy who spoke. She moved slowly forward, and leaning her arm on the mantelpiece confronted the four men. "You wish me to continue?" asked Judson. "Certainly. Why not?" The detective inclined his head and again turned towards Cyril. "Having once discovered their identity, my lord, their motive was quite apparent." "Well, who are they? Out with it." "The elder," began Judson, speaking very slowly, "is Monsieur de Brissac. The younger--" he paused. For a moment Cyril was too stunned to speak. He could do nothing but stare stupidly at the detective. Amy guilty! Amy! It was incredible! "Stop! Your suspicions are absurd! Do not listen to him, Inspector!" He hardly knew what he was saying. He only realised confusedly that something within him was crying to him to save her. A wonderful light suddenly transfigured Amy's drawn face. "Cyril, would you really do this for----" "Hush!" He tried to silence her. She turned proudly to the inspector. "I don't care now who knows the truth. I killed Lord Wilmersley." "Don't listen to her! Don't you see that she is not accountable for what she is saying?" cried Cyril. He had forgotten everything but that she was a woman--his wife. "I killed Lord Wilmersley," Amy repeated, as if he had not spoken, "but I did not murder him." "Does your Ladyship expect us to believe that you happened to call at the castle at half-past ten in the evening, and that during an amicable conversation you accidentally shot Lord Wilmersley?" demanded Griggs. "No," replied Amy contemptuously, "of course not! I--" She hesitated.