Mrs. Drass muttered something which Paul could not hear, and her usually florid face was pale, as she preceded him into the dining-room, where Miss Clyde sat at breakfast. That lady looked cold and composed and masculine as usual; but she could not suppress a start at the sight of Paul. "So you want to see me on business, Mr. Mexton?" she said, when he had explained himself. "Very good. Come into my study, and we will not be disturbed." "Can I come also, Selina?" said Mrs. Drass, who was extremely curious. "Not just now," answered Miss Clyde; "later on I shall send for you." So Mrs. Drass went back to her flowers with an unsatisfied curiosity, while Paul and Miss Clyde repaired to the room, which the latter dignified with the name of her study. In truth, it was more of a bachelor's den than the apartment of a spinster lady; and its furnishing was an excellent proof of the simplicity of its owner's character. Miss Clyde sat down before the desk, which fronted the window, and pointing out a seat to Paul, waited to hear what he had to say. Knowing her direct and outspoken way of going about things, Paul went directly to the point. "I have come to see you about this murder, Miss Clyde," he said, looking at her significantly. "I expected as much," she replied quietly. "But what can I tell you about it?" "As much as you saw in the Winding Lane on that night," said Mexton boldly. "Who saw me in the lane?" "Brent; he saw you following Milly and Mr. Lovel. Were you?" "Yes; I followed them for a purpose." "To kill Milly," said Paul, wondering at her coolness. Miss Clyde shook her head, and opening a drawer, produced therefrom a pistol. "I followed them to obtain that revolver," she said, and handed the weapon to Paul. CHAPTER XIII. THE DEFENCE OF MISS CLYDE. It was not to be denied that the conversation between Miss Clyde and the journalist had opened in a highly dramatic fashion. Mexton, prompted by the recollection of Brent's revelation and accusation--had in sufficient plain language accused her of murdering Milly Lester. In answer to this Miss Clyde had placed in his hands a revolver which she admitted having obtained possession of on that fatal night. The unfortunate girl had been shot; Paul asked himself if the crime had been consummated by the weapon which Miss Clyde had produced, and which, in a somewhat dazed fashion, he held in his hand. "No," said his hostess, reading his thoughts in his face; "Milly was not killed by a shot from that pistol. But she might have been." "I don't understand what you mean," stammered Paul. "It is not difficult to understand," rejoined Miss Clyde, shrugging her fine shoulders. "I took that pistol from a would-be murderer." "Mr. Lovel?"