“Marie and I solved the riddle!” and to quieten the babbling creature Alan hurriedly related everything in as few words as possible. “The peacock and the jewels are now at Yarbury’s Bank, so things are all right in that respect, and Marie is now wealthy.” “She has the jewels,” muttered the old man jealously. “Oh, the beautiful jewels. They are beautiful, are they not, Alan?” “Don’t trouble about what is not yours,” said Fuller sharply, “what we have to do is to come to an understanding. Miss Grison is here, staying with Mrs. Millington, while Morad-Bakche is at The Red Fox, and I shrewdly suspect that Inspector Moon will come down this very day, since he guesses that you are here, because Marie let drop a word or so about the noises she heard.” Sorley staggered to the door. “I am surrounded by my enemies,” he gasped, “but I sha’n’t give in. I shall go back to the cellars and hide myself.” Alan ran forward and grasped his arm. “No,” he said strongly, “you must act like a man, Mr. Sorley, and give yourself up. If you are innocent you need fear nothing, and I shall stand by you throughout the trial.” “The trial! the trial!” wailed Sorley; “no, no, I cannot, I dare not. Louisa is too strong for me, indeed she is. Unless he knows the truth. “He. To whom do you refer?” “He—I mean—I mean—ah, you asked me why I ran away again after giving myself up. Stop here and you shall see, you shall see with your own eyes, Alan, I swear you shall see,” and wrenching himself free, Sorley flung open the door and passed hastily out of the room. Alan had half a mind to follow, since once hidden again, it would be difficult to discover the old creature. But then Sorley believed that he would help him, so Fuller was satisfied that he would return, although he could not conjecture the reason why he had gone away. It seemed impossible for him to produce any proof to show why he had fled in the fog. Fuller determined to wait, and meanwhile opened the shutters. The cold searching light of the morning penetrated the large room in a chill manner, and Alan shivered in the keen air when he opened the middle French window. But he did not shiver when the sound of Sorley’s returning footsteps was heard and when the door re-opened to show the old man dragging a miserable object forward by the arm. “Jotty!” cried Alan with a bewildered stare. “Yes, Jotty,” echoed Sorley; “and now you know why I bolted.” CHAPTER XX WHO IS GUILTY?