"Yes, I will. You have the diary and I want to read it. To know why I do, it is necessary that you should learn all that we have discovered." "What have you discovered? Who killed Sir Simon?" "No. We are trying to hunt down the assassin. And Mrs. Gilroy's diary may tell us." "I don't see that." "You will, when you learn what I have to say." And Conniston related everything concerning the false marriage and the half-brother of young Gore. "And now, you see," he finished triumphantly, "Mrs. Gilroy is fighting for her son. It is probable that she has set down the events of that night in her diary." "She would not be such a fool, if her son is guilty." "Oh, people do all manner of queer things. Criminals who are very secretive in speech sometimes give themselves away in writing. You were at the theatre on that night?" "Yes, with Julius; so neither of us had anything to do with the matter, if that is what you mean." "I mean nothing of the sort," said Conniston, quickly. "How can you think I should suspect you?" "You might suspect Julius," said Lucy, suspiciously, "and although we have quarrelled I don't want to harm him." "Would you rather have Bernard hanged?" "Oh!" Lucy burst into tears and impulsively threw the book into Conniston's lap. "Read it at once; I would rather save Bernard than Julius." Conniston availed himself of this permission at once. He took away the diary with Lucy's permission, and carried it in triumph to the castle. Here he and Bernard sat down to master its contents. These astonished them considerably. Conniston made out a short and concise account of the events of that fatal night, for the benefit of Durham. They were as follows: Mrs. Gilroy, it appears, thought that her son, Michael, was really and truly in America. She had no suspicion that the lover of Jane Riordan was her son, but truly believed from the description that he was young Gore whom she hated--as she plainly stated in several pages. When the presumed Bernard went away before six, he did not call again at ten o'clock. The man that called, Mrs. Gilroy asserted, was Bernard, and not her son. He saw Sir Simon and after a stormy interview he departed. "Why then doesn't she accuse me of the crime?" said Gore. "Wait a bit," said Conniston, who was reading his precis. "This diary is meant for her eye alone. Still, she may have thought it might fall into the hands of another person, and therefore made her son safe. Michael called before ten--for then, Bernard, you were with Durham and myself. Michael saw Sir Simon, and then Mrs. Gilroy, pretending the man was you, says he departed, leaving your grandfather alive. See! here's the bit," and he read, "Sir Simon was alive after Mr. Gore left the house." "Go on," said Bernard. "If I am innocent, why did she accuse me?"