So while the poor grub worked in the dull room the butterflies fluttered in the sunshine. To be precise, they drove in a taxi-cab to their favourite meeting-place near the Round Pond. Here Audrey related how she had seen Madame Coralie, and what had taken place. Shawe was not easily astonished, but on this occasion he confessed that he was. It was surprising to learn that Madame Coralie was the sister of Lady Branwin, and more surprising still to hear that she so easily confessed to having possession of the long-lost diamonds. "Oh, she must be innocent," said the barrister, after an astonished pause. "I can't conceive she would admit so much if she were guilty. The very possession of the jewels would make the police certain of her guilt." "But the police must never know," said Audrey, anxiously. "Remember, I tell you all this under seal of secrecy." "Oh, I shall say nothing," Ralph assured her seriously--"especially as your aunt has been so candid as to dispel any suspicions that I may have entertained regarding her complicity in the crime." "Then you don't believe in Perry Toat's theory?" "No, I certainly do not. I have my own views." "What are they?" Shawe hesitated. "I shall tell you what they are when I am more certain of my suspicions." "Then you do suspect someone?" asked the girl, swiftly. "Yes and no; that is, I have found a mare's nest." Audrey looked at him carefully. It struck her that his face was thin and pale, and that his eyes looked remarkably dull. "You are worrying, dear." "Yes, over this case. I really think"--Shawe passed his hand across his forehead--"that it would be best to leave it alone. Audrey"--he took her hands and looked entreatingly into her face--"why not let sleeping dogs lie?" She shook her head. "I must learn who killed my mother. Aunt Flora--that is, Madame Coralie--will help me. Why do you wish things to be left alone?" "Because the wording of that anonymous letter haunts me," said Shawe, irritably. "If you search into this matter you will experience some very great grief. Is it worth risking that?" "For the sake of my mother's memory it is," said the girl, firmly. "My darling, I assure you that your mother will rest no more quietly in her grave because her assassin is hanged. Why not abandon the whole business and marry me at once? I have not much money, it is true, but what I have is enough for both of us to live quietly." "No, no, no!" said Audrey, insistently. "We discussed this matter before, and I told you that I would not drag you down and hinder your career by saddling you with a poor wife; and if I marry against my father's wishes I am bound to be poor. Besides, I have sworn to myself never to rest until the murderer of my poor mother is brought to justice. If you won't help me--and you certainly do not seem anxious to do so--I must work alone."