"I know all," answered the woman, in a rich, low voice. "Jarks, the sexton, told my servant this morning what has happened to poor Julian, and that his body has been found in the Marlow vault." "Are you sure you did not know of it last night?" asked Alan quietly. "Mr. Thorold!" The color rushed to her face. "I mean that the letter which disturbed you so much might have hinted at the murder." "A letter? How do you know I got a letter last night?" "The Rector called to break the news to you this morning, and your servant told him that you already knew it; also that you had left for London--with your jewels, Mrs. Warrender," added Alan significantly. "And you followed me!" cried the woman savagely. "Do you intend to accuse me of my husband's murder?" "I certainly do not; and I did not follow you. I am here on the same errand as yourself." She looked terrified. "How do you know what my errand is?" "Because I can put two and two together, Mrs. Warrender. I also received a letter--at least, Miss Marlow did, and from the same man--the man who lives here." "Cicero Gramp?" "That is the name. You see, I was right. Does he intend to blackmail you also, and did you bring your jewels to satisfy his demands?" She looked down the court. They were comparatively alone. A few ragged children were playing about, and some slatternly women were watching them from doorways. A man or two, brutalized by drink, hovered in the distance. But a smart constable, who passed and repassed the entrance of the cul-de-sac, casting inquisitive glances at Alan and his companion, kept these birds of prey from any nearer approach. Finding that they were out of earshot, Mrs. Warrender produced a letter and handed it to Alan. It was written on the same thick, creamy paper, and in the same elegant handwriting as had been the communication to Sophy. He read it in silence. As he had expected, it informed Mrs. Warrender that her husband was dead, and that Cicero Gramp, on payment of two hundred pounds, could inform her where the body could be found. His price had evidently gone up. But what struck Alan most was the nature of the information now offered. Cicero declared that he could tell the widow where her husband's body was to be found. The body had already been discovered in the Marlow vault. Ergo, Cicero Gramp knew it was there. If so, had he seen the murder committed and the body taken into the vault? It seemed probable. Indeed, it seemed likely that he could solve the whole mystery; but, strangely enough, the prospect did not seem to afford Mr. Thorold much satisfaction. He handed back the letter with a dissatisfied smile. "I think you have wasted your time coming up," he said. "Jarks, no doubt, told your servant that the doctor's body had already been discovered. Why, then, come up to pay blackmail?" "I want to find out who killed Julian," she said. "Then you are on your way to see this man?" "Yes." She shuddered. "But this terrible place. I am afraid."