"No, no," cried the lawyer. "Hold him tightly, Trent. He killed Sir Simon. I have the confession in my pocket. And the Captain here is an accessory after the fact." "Arrest him," said Trent, pointing to Kyles. A policeman advanced and was knocked down. This was the signal for a general fight. Trent held on to Pope Narby like grim death and the miserable creature was whimpering like a soul in pain. The other policemen in the boat managed to get on deck, and one who remained behind sent off a green rocket, as a sign that assistance was required. Apparently Trent, expecting some fighting, had laid his plans excellently. On the moonlit deck a mass of men struggled and strained, with much noise and clamour. Mrs. Narby fought tooth and nail for her son, but he was down under the feet of the Inspector, who stood over him with a levelled revolver. Kyles blew his bo'sn's whistle, and more and more sailors came tumbling up from below, dark, fierce-looking fellows they were, who cared for nothing. The police were overpowered gradually, but already more boats were putting off from the shore, and there was every chance that Kyles would have to yield. He shouted down to the engine room, and gave the signal to "stand by." Trent dragged his prisoner to the side and dropped him into the boat, while Mrs. Narby clung to him, biting and scratching. Indeed, but for the assistance of Ritson, she would have succeeded in getting her son free. What with the yelling and swearing and struggling, the deck was like a pandemonium. Having secured at least one prisoner, and seeing that there was danger of bloodshed, Trent cried to his men to regain the boat. At the same time the yacht began to move, and Kyles, on the bridge, was pulling at the whistle, which shrieked shrilly. Herries, not wishing to be carried away, for the policemen were tumbling into their boat, rushed to the side, where his own boatmen were. He saw the boat, and shouted. Just as he did so, and was leaning over at a dangerous angle, he was pushed violently from behind, and had just a glimpse of Maud's malignant face as she thrust him to his death. "The money's mine--mine," she cried, clapping her hands. "And Bruce is mine," said Señora Guzman in her ear, and sent Maud Tedder overboard after her victim. CHAPTER XXVII THE END Some months later, in the spring-time, Mr. and Mrs. Herries were seated under their own fig-tree; in other words, they were occupying the "Moated Hall." Angus had entered into full possession of his property, and was now a country gentleman, popular and wealthy. His wife also was much admired, and, her story being known, everyone was delighted to make her acquaintance. It had been impossible to keep the mysterious tale of the "Marsh Inn" murder out of the newspapers, and quite a legend had grown up in connection with it.