“I don’t care sixpence about the future,” returned Nellie, “and I’m sure I don’t know why I’ve been crying, except that I am tired, and I think I’ll go home. You’ll warn Mr. Vickers, won’t you?” “I will,” said Overton. Nellie still hesitated. “He is here, I suppose.” “Yes. He was thinking of staying to dine with me, and taking a late train to town. He has a steamer to catch to-morrow; but after what you say”--Overton looked at his watch--“I rather think that he had better go at once. There’s a train within half an hour.” “Oh, he had much better go at once, before James has time to make trouble,” she answered; and then added gravely, “Mr. Overton, do you believe that the murder happened just as Mr. Vickers said?” “Do you?” “Yes.” “So do I,” Overton answered, “but then I have some reason, for I remember something of the case, which was a very celebrated one up the State. And now, Nellie, I’ll tell you a secret which I wouldn’t trust to any one else. I have an impression--a vague one, but still I trust it--that that case was set straight, somehow or other. If it should be----” “Telegraph and find out.” “I wrote some days ago--the night before your uncle was taken ill; but I have had no answer. But mind, don’t tell him. It would be too cruel, if I should turn out to be wrong.” “I?” said Nellie. “I don’t ever expect to see the man again.” “I suppose not,” he returned, “and yet I wish it were not too much to ask you to take him to the station in your trap. He won’t have more than time, and mine has not come to the door yet.” Nellie looked as if she were going to refuse, but when she spoke she spoke quite definitely: “I’ll take him,” she said. “Thank you,” said Overton, and left the room. In his library he found Vickers standing on the hearthrug, though there was no fire in the chimney-place. His head was bent and he was vaguely chinking some coins in his pocket. “Well, Vickers,” said his host coolly, “I have a disagreeable piece of news for you. Emmons, it seems, has telegraphed for a warrant, and does not intend to let you go until he gets it, but possibly he won’t be prepared for your slipping away at once. There’s a train at five-ten. Do you care to try it?” Vickers looked up, as if the whole matter were of very small interest to him. “There does not seem to be anything else to do, does there?” he said. “Of course, my offer of a position is still open to you.” “I can’t stay in this country with Emmons on my heels. They’d lock me up in a minute.” “You have never heard anything further about your case, have you?” “Not a word. There wasn’t much to hear, I expect. I suppose I had better be going.” “Your bags are at the Lees’ still, aren’t they?” “And can stay there, for all I care. I’ll not put foot in that house again.” “I hope you don’t feel too resentfully towards Miss Lee,” Overton began, “for in the first place it was she who brought me word of this move of Emmons, and in the second----”