"No, I didn't recognize her," said Miss Destiny, sitting down sullenly, "It was darkish, and Gertrude was the last person I expected to see in a motor car. I saw that the lady had a white cloak, and knew my niece possessed one; but it never struck me that Gertrude was the driver, until I came to Mootley and heard that Anne had been murdered. The information about the glass-headed pin made me certain." "All this has to be proved," said I, after a nervous pause, for there was no denying that Miss Monk's position was perilous, "have you accused her?" "No, I haven't. I asked her why she didn't meet me at Mootley, and she said that she had decided not to go. A lie--a lie," cried Miss Destiny, leaping to her feet again, "she was there, and she murdered Anne." "And stole the eye, perhaps?" "I can't say that for certain. I only speak of what I know. But, as Anne was murdered for the sake of the eye--everyone seems to think that--I have no doubt that Gertrude has it." "Have you seen it in her possession?" "You asked me that before. I have not seen it in her possession. I only speak of what I know," she said again and looked dogged. There was a few minutes' silence. Putting together Miss Destiny's statements and what I knew about the eye and the cloak, it would seem that the proofs of guilt against Gertrude were overwhelming. Prejudiced as I was in her favor, and blinded, more or less by love, I could not help acknowledging that the evidence was dead against her. If Miss Destiny spoke out, and Gertrude was arrested, she would be hard put to prove her innocence. Only one thing remained to be done: to silence Miss Destiny, until Gertrude could explain herself. "Of course you will say nothing," I said sternly. Miss Destiny looked at me sulkily. "Of course," she asserted. "I don't love Gertrude; all the same I don't wish to see her hanged." "Not that word," I rose and put out my hand, wincing. "Hanged! hanged! hanged!" screamed the furious old woman, "you are so blinded by love, you fool, that you can't see her wickedness--the murderess." "She is not." "The thief." "She is not." I turned on my heel and flung open the door. Miss Destiny leaped to my side. "What are you going to do?" "I intend to see Miss Monk, and ask her to disprove your accusations." "She can't; she daren't." "We shall see," I snapped, and left the house, while Miss Destiny jeered and made mouths after me like a wicked foul old witch. CHAPTER XII. GERTRUDE'S DEFENCE