Even then it did not enter his mind that the brooch referred to had any connection with the links of which he had spoken to his host the night, before. "How big was it?" he asked. "If Aunt Ruth won't give it back I'll try and get you one like it." "Oh, I think grandfather will give me another," Mildred said, hopefully. "He gave me this. It is this size," she drew a small oval in the dust with her finger, "and that shape, with a horse on it in pretty colours, and a little thing on the back to put a thread through so that my doll can wear it. It is so pretty." Heron felt as if he had received a blow. For was not the child describing, with the exception of the design, the broken link he had in his pocket? And she had got it from her grandfather! Without a word he took the link out of his pocket and shewed it to the child. She pounced on it with a scream of delight. "Why, that's my brooch!" she cried. And then on a nearer view: "No, it isn't. Here's a nasty bottle! Mine had a horse on it." The young man remembered the description given by Mr. Cass of the links known as the "four vices," and he could no longer refuse to believe that it was he who had given Mildred the link which matched the one now in her hands. And that link had been found under the window of the very room in which the crime had been committed! "Could it be possible---- No! No!" cried Geoffrey, staggering back, his ruddy face pale. "It cannot be!" "What is the matter, Mr. Heron? Are you ill?" asked the child, rising. "No, I am not ill, dear. But give me back my brooch." "I don't like it," she said, thrusting it into his hand. "A nasty bottle! Mine with the horse was much nicer. I'll ask grandfather to give me another. Now I'm going to play, Mr. Heron, do ask Aunt Ruth to give me back my dear little brooch." The prattle of the child worried him terribly. "Yes, yes," he said, impatiently; "but run away and play now, dear." And as Mildred scampered off "Great Heavens!" he thought. "Can Cass have murdered the man? Impossible! He could have had no motive." He was thankful to be alone, for he felt that in his present state of mind he could speak to no one. Therefore, still thinking of the new discovery he had made he felt annoyed to see Jennie Brawn leave the children and come towards him. He would have escaped her by walking off, but she called to him, and he had, perforce, to remain. She looked anxious and worried. "Mr. Heron, I wish to speak to you particularly," she said. "I am so glad to find you alone. You look ill." "I have had rather a shock, but really I am all right," he said, with an attempt at a smile. "What is it, Miss Brawn?"