During dinner that evening a servant entered and whispered into Mr. Bebro’s ear. He rose hurriedly and left the room. Presently he returned looking greatly agitated. To his wife’s enquiries he replied that it had been a business message. But Minna was seized with a horrible foreboding and sat through the remainder of the meal sick and dumb, while her kind hosts pressed upon her food and drink. She dared not ask, though she knew what the answer would be. Dinner over, he signed to his wife and grown-up daughter to leave him alone with their guest. “I have some very serious news for you, my dear young lady. A messenger from Scotland Yard came just now.” “Have they--arrested anyone?” “The last person in the world one would have guessed. Prepare yourself for a great shock.” She writhed under these kindly futilities; the more so because she knew that some expression of horrified astonishment was naturally expected from her. A ghastly farce. “It is Mr. Hugh Colman. It seems impossible, but the officer told me there is a great deal against him.” She could express no surprise, but sat paralysed, dreading lest her apparent phlegm should give away her secret. “There must be some mistake,” she said, at last, hoarsely. “He was our friend--dining with us that night. And he went to the funeral.” “I remember seeing him there,” said Aaron Bebro. “Will he be brought before the magistrates in the morning?” “Of course.” “Shall I have to go--to give evidence?” “Not to-morrow, I am glad to say; but perhaps afterwards.” Minna rose from her chair. “This is a dreadful shock,” she said, in steadier tones, “and it has upset me. I think I shall go to my room. You will make my apologies to Mrs. Bebro--and thank you for your kindness.” She looked him full in the face and held out her hand, which he pressed warmly. “You are a brave girl,” he said. But once in her own room, her nerve gave way. She stood before the mirror and laughed hysterically. “Yes,” she cried, “I am a brave girl.” CHAPTER XI