"Don't you dare to speak of her like that," cried Cyril, clenching his fists and half starting to his feet. "By Jove, old man! You're smitten with her," exclaimed Campbell, staring aghast at his friend. Cyril flushed darkly under his tan. "Certainly not, but I have the greatest respect for this unfortunate young woman, and don't you forget it again." Campbell smiled incredulously. "Oh, very well! Believe what you like, but I didn't think you were the sort of man who never credits a fellow with disinterested motives, if he behaves half-way decently to a woman." "Steady now, Cyril. Don't let's quarrel. You mustn't take offence so easily. I have never seen the young lady, remember. And you know I will help you even against my better judgment." "You're a good chap, Guy." "Thanks! Now let us first of all consider Miss Prentice's case dispassionately. I want to be sure of my facts; then I may be able to form some conjecture as to why Wilmersley was murdered and how the jewels came into Miss Prentice's possession. You tell me that it has been proved that she really left Geralton on the afternoon before the murder?" "Yes; the carrier swears he drove her into Newhaven and put her down near the station. Further than that they have luckily not been able to trace her." "Now your idea is that Miss Prentice, having in some way managed to secure a car, returned to Geralton that evening and got into the castle through the library window?" "No, I doubt if she entered the castle. I can think of no reason why she should have done so," said Cyril. "In that case, how do you account for her injuries? Who could have flogged her except your charming cousin?" "I hadn't thought of that!" exclaimed Cyril. "Granting that she is Priscilla Prentice, the only hypothesis I can think of which explains her predicament is this: Having planned to rescue her mistress, she was only waiting for a favourable opportunity to present itself. The doctor's visit determined her to act at once. I agree with you that to re-enter Geralton was not her original intention, but while waiting under the library window for Lady Wilmersley to join her, she hears Wilmersley ill-treating his wife, so she climbs in and rushes to the latter's assistance." "Yes, yes," assented Cyril with shining eyes. "But she is overpowered by Wilmersley," continued Campbell, warming to his theme, "who, insane with rage, flogs her unmercifully. Then Lady Wilmersley, fearing the girl will be killed, seizes the pistol, which is lying on the desk, and fires at her husband----" "I am convinced that that is just what happened," cried Cyril.