"This inaction. Here I am mouldering in this old castle, a prey to apprehension, and letting other people do my work. Why shouldn't I come to life and give myself up?" "You can do that later, when we know more about the case than we do at present. Don't be rash, Bernard." Gore walked up and down the room. "The life will drive me mad," he said impatiently. "Thank Heaven Alice comes to see me to-morrow." "Why didn't she come before?" "She would have done so had she thought it safe. Alice is as true as steel. But with Beryl about the place--and he has called several times on Miss Berengaria--she thought it best to postpone her visit. But Conniston asked them both over to-morrow, and they are coming openly." "So they told me," rejoined Durham, coolly, "and I particularly impressed on them that they were not to bring that imp over. If he learns you are here--" The lawyer paused. "What will he do?" "Sell you to the highest bidder. I think we can get the better of Beryl there, though. We have the money and Beryl hasn't. Judas is in the employment of Beryl so long as it pays him. But if I promise him a good sum he'll hold his tongue whatever he learns. It's just as well, seeing how rash you were telling his grandmother where he is to be found." "I was foolish," admitted Gore, gloomily, "but I am so worried that I do foolish things. Do you think there is any chance of getting at the truth, Mark?" "Here's the tea," said Durham, rising at the sound of a shuffle at the door. "Let me have a cup, and then I'll tell you what I have discovered." "Anything important?" asked Gore, as the door opened. "Very important. I have a clue." It was Victoria, sharp and dark and vixenish as ever, who brought in the tray. But Durham had spoken in low tones, so he did not think she had heard. Besides, he was not so alarmed about her and Judas as he had been. Both were venal, and at any cost their silence would have to be purchased. It would be better for Bernard to lose half his estate than remain a fugitive from justice. Victoria darted a suspicious glance at Bernard, as from the air of mystery surrounding his stay at the castle she thought he was, as she put it, "wanted for something." But she was too clever, and, truth to say, too impotent to move without the co-operation of Jerry Moon. Besides, beyond a mere suspicion, she had nothing to go upon. Queerly enough, she had heard nothing of the murder, but then Mrs. Moon kept her so close that Victoria rarely had an opportunity of indulging her gossipping instincts, of which she had her full share. When she withdrew, Durham poured out two cups of tea and ate some toast. Gore waited patiently enough, but there was a restless air about him which showed that his patience was tried severely. At length Durham satisfied his appetite, took the edge off it as it were, and then returned to his seat. "Bernard," he asked, poking the fire, "you never told me that Sir Simon gave you a check for one thousand pounds?"