"She had, more or less, but was not quite certain. When I told her all that had occurred, she believed me at once. In some instinctive way she knew that I was really her lover. Then we set to work to concert measures for my safety. Olivia told me Felix was supposed to be in Paris at the Hôtel des Étrangers and showed me his letters, so it was decided as wisest to keep up that fiction. She told me all that had taken place during my absence, and by the time you came I was thoroughly fitted into the skin of Felix." "Then I came and insisted you were Felix." "Yes! You see, I told the truth, and so did Olivia, when I said I was Francis. But, of course, as I had changed clothes with the dead man, we saw where you were making your mistake. I never thought you'd take my death so much to heart." "Seeing that, Briarfield, you ought to have told me all." "Olivia suggested as much, but I was afraid. When you asked me to ride out and see the inn, I asked for a night's grace in order to get rid of the body. I rode out during the night and threw it into a pool near the inn." "I know that pool," said I grimly, "and traced your trail thereto." "I am afraid I did it badly," said Francis, with a shudder; "it was a horrible task, yet necessary, as I thought when you saw nobody the next day you would think it was a dream or a hallucination." "I did very nearly," I answered gravely. "And what about Paris?" "Oh, that was very easy. When you said you were going there to look up Felix, I followed you to London by the same train and crossed over to Paris at once. At the Hôtel des Étrangers I found Felix had bribed the manager to send on those letters to Olivia. He, of course, thought I was Felix and talked quite openly before me. Felix had invented a very ingenious plot to enlist the manager in his service. What it was I need not tell you, but I told the manager what I wanted and he did it well. Of course I paid him lavishly." "You mean he deceived me by saying you had been six weeks in Paris." "Yes, and about my going to Italy. Of course when you saw me you thought I was really Felix, and that you were out of your mind." "How could I do otherwise when your statements were backed up by the manager? I did not know what to make of it." "Well, that's all I have to tell," said Francis, "and a lot of trouble it has been. I wish I had told you all at first." "What about Rose Gernon?" "Oh, she found me out and made believe I was Felix. She wanted to marry me, as you saw. I had great trouble with her." "We'll settle her to-morrow," said I grimly. "But now, Francis, who do you think killed your brother?" "I can't say! I don't even know how he died." "He died," said I, "from a wound in the hand inflicted by a poisoned arrowhead which was taken from Bellin Hall." "And who wounded him?" demanded Francis, turning pale. "We'll find that out to-morrow," I answered, "from Rose Strent, alias Rose Gernon." CHAPTER XIII. PERPLEXITY.