In the dingy study an eloquent silence prevailed. After making her startling announcement, Prudence sat tearless, and with a drawn white face, plucking at the damp handkerchief she carried in her hands. Poor girl, she had wept until she could weep no more, and all she could do, with worn-out emotions, was to hold her peace, until Clarice could help her to continue the conversation. That young lady, as white-faced as her hostess, sat tongue-tied and horrified. She looked at the sad figure before her, at the grim line of theological books bound in calf, at the unclean window with its ragged curtains, and at the grimy carpet, worn and faded. It took her some time to collect her thoughts. When she did recover her speech, it was to energetically deny the truth of the girl's speech. "I don't believe it," cried Clarice, decisively; "don't talk to me, Prudence," she went on, as the girl was about to speak, "you know perfectly well that Uncle Henry was murdered by that wretched Osip, and that a verdict to that effect was brought in by the jury. Besides, what possible object could your father have to commit murder?" Prudence looked up with a scared look, and stealthily glanced at the door, as she answered in a whisper. "The loan--the interest," said Prudence, in the voice of a ghost, so thin and low was her speech. Clarice started and reflected. There certainly was a motive here to make Clarke commit a crime--that is, if Horran, grinding him to the dust, had proposed to sell him up. But that is exactly what the dead man never intended to do. "Uncle Henry would never have behaved like a usurer," said Clarice. "He charged father ten per cent.," said Prudence, scathingly. "If he had been a Shylock, he would have charged him fifty per cent., my dear, and also he would not have allowed the interest to run on for three years without claiming his own. And now I think of it," added Clarice, recalling a late conversation with Mr. Barras, "Uncle Henry knew very little about the matter. He instructed Mr. Barras to lend your father one thousand pounds, and omitted to mention the interest. Mr. Barras charged ten per cent. on his own. It is a large percentage, but then Mr. Barras is not the most amiable of men. And, I suppose, he thought he was doing right in getting as much as he could for the money." "Father owed Mr. Horran one thousand pounds and three hundred for interest," said Prudence, "and----" "One moment, dear. He owed this, and still owes this to the estate of myself and Ferdy. Mr. Horran had a settled income for acting as our guardian, but the money he lent was ours, and not his. I have taken this debt upon myself, and when you marry Ferdy, I'll give your father a discharge." Prudence lifted up her hands with a low wail. "I can never marry Ferdy," she said, in a broken voice. "What nonsense; you shall marry him." "And see my father stand in the dock as a felon." "There is no chance of that, Prudence. What does your father say?"