"Yes. I have ascertained that a third person was in the Winding Lane on that night when Milly and Lovel met." "Who is the person?" "Catinka, the Polish violinist," replied Paul; and forthwith he told Iris all that he had learned regarding the rainbow feather from Dr. Lester. "It certainly looks as though she had been there," said Iris thoughtfully; "but it is impossible that she could have killed my sister." "Why? From all accounts she is in love with Herne." "I don't believe she is!" insisted Miss Link. "Mr. Herne's explanation to my father is far more likely. I fancy her association with him is founded on patriotic grounds. She knows that he is rich and enthusiastic, and wishes to secure him as a member of her ridiculous society. With his money she could do a great deal towards her object of inciting a revolt against Russia." "That is very probable. But on these grounds I do not see why she came to Barnstead on the night of the murder." "Nor I. You must ask her that yourself, Paul," added Iris suddenly. "Is not this the lady you love?" Paul blushed in his turn. "It is Catinka whom I admired," he replied with an emphasis on the last word; "but I do not love her--at least, not now. My fancy for her has passed away. My heart is free--far more so than yours, Iris." "What do you mean?" asked his companion, a trifle coldly. "Why," said Paul in surprise--"surely you know! Do you not love Darcy Herne?" "No, Paul; my fancy for him has died away, like yours for Catinka." "For what reason?" "One which satisfies myself," said Iris resolutely, "but one I cannot tell you." Paul looked searchingly at her, but the cold look on her face baffled his scrutiny. "I do not understand you," he said, turning away his eyes. "I don't understand myself," replied Iris bitterly, "but some day I may do so. At present, my dear Paul, you may be sure that my heart is as free as your own." "Our hearts may not always remain in such a forlorn condition," said Paul suggestively. Iris looked at him suddenly, and saw something in the expression of his face which made her blush. With the evasive instinct of a woman, she turned hastily away. "See--papa is going," she said hurriedly. "I must follow him. Good-bye, Paul." "Good-bye, Iris," was his reply; and when the two went away from the house with Miss Clyde--who had to return to Barnstead also--Paul stood looking after them with a smile on his lips. "Strange if Iris should turn out to be my fate after all," he said to himself; and then went off to the office of the "Tory Times." His presence there was much needed, and he had to discard all speculation about Iris and a possible wedding, in order to plunge into journalistic work connected mostly with the dry subjects of politics.