"Of course. The police are at the Manor now. I went over to offer my services to Jenny, but she did not want me, and sent out to say so. Poor little woman! I don't see how she's going to manage matters. I hope she'll have enough to live on." "Why! I thought Mr. Malet was rich!" "He was. But he spent money freely, and gambled a good deal." Harold looked uneasy. "I tell you what, Brenda, I sha'n't be easy in my mind until I know that my money and Wilfred's is safe. Malet had supreme control over it, and for all I know he may have made ducks and drakes with it." "Well, if he has, we'll have to do without it, that's all," replied the girl. "By the way, dear, why didn't you go to town last night as we arranged?" "I changed my mind. It struck me that Jenny might manage to succeed with Malet where I had failed. I didn't go up to the house, because I didn't want to meet him; so I sent her a note asking her to come to the Rectory. You know Mr. Slocum is one of my oldest friends." "How strange," said Brenda, wonderingly. "I had exactly the same idea; that was why I went to the Manor last night. When I got there they told me Lady Jenny had gone to the Rectory." "I didn't see her," said Harold, grimly. "I waited till nine, and as she hadn't turned up then I went back to the inn. There, later on, I heard of the murder, and went to look at the body. Although we had quarrelled I felt sorry for the poor devil when I heard of his violent death." "Poor Mr. Malet," sighed Brenda; "I wonder who killed him, and why?" "Well, I can't say why, dear, but I have an idea who it was that shot him." "Who? Who?" "That man I mistook for your father." Brenda turned pale, remembering her father's agitation. "Impossible! Why do you think so?" "I examined the body first, before the others came up. I found the right hand was clenched, and by the light of the lantern I opened it. It was grasping a scrap of crape!" "A scrap of crape! But what has----" Brenda's voice died in her throat. "Don't you remember my description? That old man wore a crape scarf!" CHAPTER V. VAN ZWIETEN SHOWS HIS TEETH. This unexpected piece of evidence caused Brenda no little uneasiness. She reflected that the man with the crape scarf had so closely resembled her father as to be mistaken for him, and then she remembered how her father had refused to give any information concerning this double of his. There was also the fact of his avowed hatred of Malet. Do what she would, she could not rid herself of the idea that through this third person, so like himself, her father was in some way connected with the murder. And little as she loved him, the thought of it shocked and terrified her. She told Harold what had passed between them in the study, and unbosomed herself of her suspicions to him. In reply he asked her a few straightforward questions. "Did your father refuse to speak of this man, Brenda?" "Absolutely. He sent me out of the room." "He was uneasy?"