"I cannot--I cannot," cried Ezra feverishly. "I had to pay some money to Malton, and did so last week. There were some five-pound notes among that money, but I cannot tell where this particular one came from." "Where did you get the money?" asked Naball. "From the Hibernian Bank." "Oh, but if you had to pay Malton money, why did you not do so by cheque?" "Because I wanted some money myself, and did not care about drawing two cheques, so I drew one, covering what I owed to him and a little over." "Humph!" Naball thought a moment. "You are sure of this?" "Yes; it's the only way I can account for having the note. Whoever killed my father, must have paid it into the bank, and it came round to me by some fatality." "Where were you on the night of the murder?" "At the Bon-Bon Theatre." "Afterwards?" "At this office." "You can prove an _alibi?_" "I'm afraid I can't. I was all alone." "Look here, Mr. Lazarus," said Naball in a kind tone, "I must say things look black against you; but I'm not satisfied yet about the real criminal. To-day is Saturday, so I'll go to the bank the first thing on Monday, and find out what I can. There's so many suspected of this business, that one more or less don't matter." Ezra groaned. "You don't think I'm guilty?" he asked imploringly. Naball looked keenly at him. "No; I believe you innocent," he replied abruptly. CHAPTER XXVII. MEG PROVES USEFUL. The next day was Sunday, and Caprice, quite worn-out with the excitement of the week and the strain of the performances of "Faust Upset," was lying in bed. The burlesque had become a great success, but the papers, with their usual kindly generosity towards authors, declared that it was due not so much to the intrinsic merit of the work, as to the wonderfully clever acting of Caprice. Last night, however, she had acted badly, going through her part with mechanical precision, but without that dash which usually characterised her performance. The worry of this murder case, anxiety for the future of her child, and pity for the unfortunate young man now in prison, had all wrought on her nerves, so that she felt overcome with extreme lassitude, and lay supinely in bed, with half-closed eyes, incapable of the slightest exertion. From this state of tranquillity she was aroused by the entrance of Eugénie, who was also looking pale and worn. She had learned all about the tracing of the five-pound note to Ezra, and had now come to tell Kitty about it. The room was in a kind of semi-darkness, as all the blinds had been pulled down to keep out the dazzling sunlight, and the atmosphere was permeated by the smell of some pungent scent which Kitty had been using to bathe her aching head. Eugénie came straight to the bed, and bent over it, on which Kitty opened her eyes and smiled faintly. "Oh, is it you, Miss Rainsford?" she said drowsily. "I did not expect you to-day."