"I don't know what you mean about that woman having given me away," said the Major, trying to control himself, "there is nothing in my life but what will bear inspection." "Even by the law?" "Even by the law. Will you have hock or claret?" "Hock, please, and some seltzer. I congratulate you on your courageous conscience, Major. Few people, even the best of us, can stand having their secret lives looked into." Rebb passed along a glass foaming with the drink, and shrugged his shoulders as he took up the claret jug. "Did you come here to preach platitudes?" he asked cynically. Gerald took a long drink, and set down his glass with a laugh. "No. I came to ask you where Mavis Durham is hiding." "How should I know? She may be dead for all I can tell. And, indeed," added Rebb to himself, "I believe she is dead, else she would have been discovered long ago. Have you any idea of her whereabouts?" "If I had would I ask you?" fenced Gerald coolly. "I stopped on the night of that poor girl's flight at the Prince's Head, as you will find if you ask Mrs. Jennings. "I have asked her already, and I know that." "Ah! Then you _did_ suspect me of having a hand in the murder." "I fancied that you might, since you loved Mavis, and wanted to get her away from here. I hope you are satisfied with your work." "With _my_ work. What do you mean?" Haskins sat up. "Simply this, that nothing has gone right since you found that infernal cylinder, and pryed into my private affairs." Rebb glared. "If it was the old days of dueling, Haskins. I should call you out." "I quite believe it. But as dueling days are past you will have to silence me in another way." "Why should I silence you?" "Because, Rebb, I know too much. After I left you on that night at the Devon Maid you came here, and----" "I did not," interrupted Rebb fiercely. "You came here. Mrs. Geary says so. And I believe from my soul that you killed Bellaria, and put the blame on Mavis to secure her money." Rebb started to his feet. "You infernal liar!" And he flung his glass at the young man. CHAPTER XXII. A CONFESSION. The glass skimmed past Haskins' head, and smashed against the wainscoting. By this time both men were on their feet; Rebb glaring and furious, but Gerald perfectly calm. A few drops of the claret had sprinkled his face, and he wiped these off quietly. "There is nothing to be gained by your losing your temper, Rebb," he remarked. "Don't tell me what to do or what not to do," raged the Major, striding towards the door, which he locked. "You are in my power here." Haskins sat down again with a contemptuous laugh. "So much so that, if you opened that door to let me out, I should refuse to go. Don't be a fool, Rebb. One would think you were a melodramatic actor. Do you think that I am afraid of you or of a dozen like you? Sit down and let us talk quietly over the matter."