"Why not give the detective a picture of the man?" suggested Francis. "Why not, indeed!" I retorted derisively; "because we haven't got a picture." "I have one at my rooms," said Francis. "Where did you get it?" "I drew it while waiting for Felix at the Fen Inn. You know, Denham, I have some skill in catching expressions and watching faces. The fellow struck me as such a smug scoundrel that I penciled a caricature of him while he moved about the dining room. It is not a photograph, certainly--still, I think it is sufficiently like him." "Capital!" said the doctor, rubbing his hands. "It's a good thing you employed your leisure in that way, Mr. Briarfield. It may do you a great service." "You think I am in danger?" "I think you stand in a perilous position," replied the doctor gravely. "Your very efforts to preserve your secret and baffle Denham will score against you with the police. And you must tell them all, seeing you knew where the body was to be found." "I'll tell them all, and do the best I can," said Francis, turning pale, "but Rose can prove I was never out of my room." "No, she can't! Rose went to bed, and for aught she knows you might have come down and quarreled with your brother afterward. Your only chance, Mr. Briarfield, of proving your innocence is to find Strent. If you give that portrait to the detective watching Rose Gernon, I believe you'll lay hands on him, but it's a mere chance." "There is another means of identification," said I. "Strent is lame, so if a lame man calls on Miss Gernon, my detective, aided by the picture, will know it is Strent." "Well, go and try my plan," said Merrick, shaking Francis by the hand. "I hope for your sake, Mr. Briarfield, it will be successful." When we left the doctor, Francis looked pale and upset. He was just beginning to realize the predicament in which he stood. I was afraid myself that when all was known he would be arrested. His own actions looked black, though I knew they were done out of pure foolishness. Had he only trusted me at the time, all the trouble would have been averted. As it was I determined to stand by him to the end. "Cheer up, Briarfield!" said I, clapping him on his back. "If Merrick and I solved so much of the mystery, you may be sure we'll find out the rest." "It's the newspapers I'm thinking of," he said ruefully; "if all this foolishness gets into the press, Mrs. Bellin will never let me marry Olivia." "I don't think Mrs. Bellin will have much say in the matter," I answered dryly. "Olivia is not the kind of woman to give up her lover so easily, particularly when she knows the truth. She'll stick to you, as I intend to do. As to the press, you forget that the inquest is at Marshminster, which only possesses a weekly paper. I know the editor, and can keep all details out of it. Cheer up!" "Thank you, Denham," said the poor fellow gratefully. "You are the best friend I have."