"You shall know. It was in order to tell you that I came over this evening. But first, have you the remaining links?" Mr. Cass crossed the room to an old-fashioned desk which stood in a corner, and began to search. In five minutes he returned to his seat by the fire, bringing with him an oval enamelled with a pack of cards. "That is all I have," he said. "Mildred has the one with the horse on it; you have the other with the champagne bottle." "And the ballet girl? Where is that one?" Mr. Cass was silent and shifted uneasily in his chair. "That I cannot tell you until I know more clearly what you have discovered." "You shall know all. It may save a certain person from a relentless enemy. Yes; you may look, Mr. Cass! I tell you there is one man who hates another with all the intensity of his soul, and will only too willingly do him an injury." Mr. Cass began to grow angry at this mysterious description. "One man--another man?" he repeated. "What do you mean? Who is the enemy?" "Julian Roper." "And who is he?" Heron looked at him in astonishment. If faces were to be read, his host knew nothing of this man. "I am surprised that you do not know who Roper is," he said, slowly. "Why should I? I never even heard his name, that I can recollect. If he has any grudge against me, I cannot understand the reason, seeing, as I have said, that he is unknown to me." "I did not say that he had a grudge against you." "No, but you hinted as much. After all, I suppose I am the man who is so well hated. At least, I can take your speech in no other way." "I don't mean you at all. I allude to Marshall--your brother-in-law." "Marshall!" Mr. Cass sprang to his feet and his face turned positively grey; this time Geoffrey had no reason to complain of indifference: it was plain that his host feared the revelation about to be made against his sister's husband. "I don't quite understand," he said. "What has Marshall----" "I think you understand very well, Mr. Cass; and I can only wish that during our last conversation you had spoken out. If you want the truth in plain words, I say that Frank Marshall murdered Jenner at the Turnpike House to recover a bill of exchange on which he had forged my father's name." "Stop! Stop!" cried Mr. Cass, dropping back into his seat. "What--what grounds have you--such an accusation----" "Is it not true?" "Upon my word of honour, I cannot say." "I think you can, Mr. Cass. You know that Mrs. Jenner is innocent and that Marshall is guilty." The merchant became vehement. "I cannot say that!" he cried, dashing his fist on the table. "Because I don't know. I did suspect Marshall myself--on certain grounds; but I knew nothing of this bill--I could not fathom his motive. I was doubtful, and so I came to the conclusion that Mrs. Jenner was the guilty person. I would have told you all this before, Heron, but the honour of my family----"