“She said more?” “Much more--and to a different purpose.” I stared at him, breathing hard. “Are you going to lie again?” I muttered. “That pleasantry is too often on your lips, sir,” he said, coolly. “None doubt truth so much as those who have dishonored her. The dead woman there leaves you this as a legacy.” He thrust the thing he was holding into my hand. I recognized it in a sort of dull wonder. It was that ancient mutilated portrait of Modred that I had once discovered in Peggy’s possession. From the stained and riddled silhouette to the evil face of the man before me I glanced and could only wait in dumb expectancy. “She told me where to find it,” he said, “and I brought it to her.” “I never heard you move.” “I stepped softly for fear of disturbing your father. Do you see that outraged relic? The old creature’s self-accusation turned upon it--upon that and nothing else.” “What do you mean?” “That you must look elsewhere, I am afraid, for the criminal. Our pleasant Rottengoose shared the gross superstitions of her kind. All these years she has secretly hugged the really reprehensible thought that the boy’s death was due to her.” “I don’t understand.” “A base superstition, my friend--a very base superstition. She had in her possession, I understand, a flint shaft of the paleolithic period. There are plenty such to be picked up in the neighborhood. The ignorant call them elf arrowheads and cherish a belief that to mutilate with one of them a body’s portrait or image is to compass that person’s destruction. This harridan cherished no love for your brother, and fancied she saw her opportunity of seizing revenge without risk on a certain night of misfortune. The boy died and henceforth she knew herself as his murderess. Good-morning to you. May I remind you that my fee is yet unpaid? I will certify to the present cause of death, with pleasure.” CHAPTER LV. A SHADOW FROM THE PAST. Like one in a dream I heard the doctor’s footstep recede down the stairs and heard the yard door close dully on him as he left the house. In my suffering soul I felt one cruel shaft rankling, and for the rest only a vague sense of loss hung like a cloud over all my faculties. I had no doubt of the truth of the evil creature’s words. Not otherwise could his knowledge and possession of the tattered portrait be accounted for. Now, too, Peggy’s unaccountable terror at my discovery of her chaunting and gloating over her work on a certain afternoon recurred to me, and was confirmation irrefragable. The wretched old woman had had all the will and intention; but she was innocent of the deed.