"I don t mean that so much," said Herrick sharply, "as to the accusation he makes against you of having murdered Colonel Carr." The clergyman, who had been leaning his head on his arms in an agony of grief, looked up suddenly with a bewildered stare. "Santiago said that about me?" he demanded. "It is not true?" "It is the foulest lie he ever spoke!" cried Corn with indignation. "I am bad in many ways Dr. Herrick--yet I have my excuses, as you shall hear. But as to murdering Carr, I did nothing of the sort." "How was it then that Don Manuel obtained from you the pistol with which the crime was committed?" Corn looked round the room, and went to the door. Opening this he looked out for a moment to see that the coast was clear. Then he shut it locked it and came back to the fire-place looking more like a ghost than ever. "I picked it up," he said in a whisper, "yes, on the lawn of 'The Pines.' I knew that Colonel Carr had been shot with it. But I dare not tell." "Why not? Were you afraid of being inculpated?" "No." Corn hesitated and wiped his face. "I must tell you," he said with a gasp, "there is no help for it! This secret has weighed on my soul until I can bear it no longer. It was a woman who shot Carr." Herrick rose slowly hardly believing his ears. "A woman?" he echoed. Corn nodded and whispered again, "Mrs. Marsh," he said. "That," said Herrick, "is a lie." "It is the truth; I swear it is the truth. She shot Carr because he was about to disinherit her son. If you will sit down I will tell you all I know. I am glad that it has come to this," panted Corn wiping his forehead, "I am glad that I can tell you. The secret has nearly killed me." "Did you tell Santiago?" asked Dr. Jim seated again and much bewildered. "No, I told no one. Santiago on the evidence of that pistol really believed that I was guilty. But it is a lie--a lie, and he used it to force me to hide his wickedness. I protested my innocence; but he would never believe me. And that because I refused to say who was guilty." Herrick placed his hands on the shoulders of the agitated man and forced him into the chair. "Come," said he in a more friendly tone, "you are not so weak or so bad as I thought Corn. You took the blame on yourself. Oh, I know you protested your innocence to Santiago; still he would always think you guilty. He is not the man to believe that any human being would shield another. Why did you shield Mrs. Marsh?" "For her son's sake," said Corn, "and for the sake of Ida Endicotte." Herrick stared. "What has she got to do with it?" "I love her," said Corn in a low voice shading his eyes with the palm of his hand, "but she told me that her whole life was wrapped up in Stephen's. If he knew that his mother had killed Carr, he is quixotic enough to throw up the whole fortune out of shame. Then he would not be able to marry Ida and her heart would be broken. It is for this reason that I held my peace."