"Get up, Mrs. Vence," said Purse, briefly. "It's--not--Mrs. Vence," quavered Claudia, in a shaky voice. "It's Lady Wyke." "Gosh!" gasped the sergeant, astonished for once in his official life. "Do you mean to say that she murdered her husband?" There was no answer from either woman. Lady Wyke rolled on the dry grass cursing freely, while Claudia sat down on a convenient rock to clasp her hands tightly and keep herself from trembling--in fact, from breaking down altogether. No one else was at hand, as the policemen at the rectory had not heard the whistle, and Purse had waved back the coastguards who seemed disposed to approach. He did not wish anyone should share the glory of his capture, and desired then and there to hear Lady Wyke's story, so that he could be sure he had arrested the right person. "Now, then," said Purse, shaking his finger at her sternly, "what have you to say, madam? Remember, anything you do say will be used in evidence against you." "Oh," sneered Lady Wyke, looking very white and very vicious, "and you think that I'll be fool enough to speak after that warning. How dare you arrest an innocent person such as I am!" "You are guilty," said Claudia, hoarsely. "You murdered Sir Hector." "It's a lie." "Neddy Mellin can prove it." "Then until he does, I am guiltless," raged the woman, furiously. "Take these handcuffs off, man." "Oh, no," said the sergeant, smoothly. "I have arrested you as Mrs. Vence, who struck down that boy. Afterwards you can be arrested for the murder of your husband as Lady Wyke." "I didn't kill him, I tell you," she snarled viciously. "As to the boy, I never saw him." "Rats!" growled Purse inelegantly. "If you are innocent of assault, why did you hide in that loft?" Lady Wyke scowled, and saw that there was no escape from the lesser crime. "I only hit the boy lightly to punish him for telling lies." "You stunned him. He is dangerously ill," said Claudia, quickly. "Then how can he accuse me if he hasn't his senses about him?" "He recovered for a moment to say that you had struck him, and he gave the reason why you did so." "And the reason?" demanded the woman, with a sneer. "You murdered your husband." "Did he say that in those exact words?" "No. He said that Mrs. Vence had murdered Sir Hector." "Well, I am not Mrs. Vence, I am Lady Wyke." "Rot!" said the sergeant, angrily. "What the deuce are you wasting my time for in telling lies? You are Lady Wyke sure enough, but you have been masquerading for some purpose as an old woman under the name of Mrs. Vence." "You can prove nothing against me, said Lady Wyke, sullenly. "Yes, we can. An operation will restore young Mellin to health, and his evidence will hang you." "Hang me?" Lady Wyke shivered. "Yes. There is no escape, But you had better not say any more. I don't want to trap you into a confession. Get up and come along with me. I must take you to Redleigh Goal."