"Herne might do it," thought Paul, as he took down the evidence, "for he seems to believe Lovel guilty, although Gran Jimboy's statement goes to clear him. Also Herne knows something in connection with that feather which he picked up. I wonder what that odd-coloured feather has to do with the matter, and whether it could prove the guilt of some person of whom at present we know nothing?" There was no answer to this question, and Herne made no sign of making any statement about the feather in favour of Lester. He stood quite still, and listened to the summing-up of the coroner--a summing-up which was dead against Lester. The coroner declared that Lester must have been in the Winding Lane on that night, else he could not have got the red clay on his clothes. The question was whether he was there after or before nine o'clock, the hour when, according to Miss Link's evidence, the fatal shot was fired. The coroner was inclined to think that Lester went straight from his own house to the Winding Lane, knowing that was the spot in which his daughter usually met Lovel; and there, finding his daughter waiting for Lovel--who was then in the tent of Gran Jimboy--had fired and killed her. Perhaps he would have killed Lovel had he been present, but in his absence he vented his rage on the deceased. The crime, however, was committed while Lester was drunk, and therefore he was not responsible for his actions. The result of this speech was that the jury--already prejudiced--found Lester guilty; and immediately the wretched father was arrested by Inspector Drek. CHAPTER X. THE PROPHECY AGAIN. When the inquest was over, and Dr. Lester had departed for Marborough gaol under the escort of Inspector Drek, the young journalist remained standing thoughtfully in the square before the inn. Nobody was surprised at the verdict, and everyone--as Paul could hear asserted on all sides--believed that Dr. Lester had murdered his own daughter while in a state of frenzy induced by intoxication. But Mexton had his doubts about the matter, principally on account of the words spoken by Iris when she wished him to cease from searching for the assassin. He wished to question her as to what she meant; and implore her, if she knew the truth, to reveal it and save her unfortunate stepfather. While he was considering the advisability of following Iris to Poverty Villa, he felt a touch on his arm. It was Eliza, and her face was grave. "I want to speak t' you, sir, if y' don't mind," she said quietly, with an entire absence of her former self-importance; "but not here; I want t' speak you--alone." "Why? Is anything wrong?" "I think so, Mr. Mexton--and with Miss Iris." "Miss Iris?" repeated Paul, glancing round. "Where is she?" "She's gone home. You follow her, sir, and ask her a question." "What kind of question?" demanded Paul, startled by this hint.