"Never. Your father had informed him that he had left an income to Beauchamp, and that drafts for the money were to be sent to a certain place--where, I don't know. The manager sent a draft, but it was returned to him with a letter stating that the man was dead. For my own part, I believe that Mr. Marlow was Beauchamp. His plan to hide himself from Lestrange has succeeded only too well." Mr. Phelps now joined in. "Then I understand, Alan, that you think Marlow is really dead?" "I do. If he had only feigned death, then Beauchamp would be receiving his income. In my opinion, the two men are one and the same. I believe Lestrange's story so far." "Humph!" said the Rector, who was really of the same opinion. "But let us leave this question for the moment and talk of the other. You say that Lestrange arrived on the day and by the boat he asserted that he did?" "I saw the passenger-list myself. If he had not been on board, his name would not have been there. Even he could not falsify a passenger-list." "Then our idea that Lestrange was the Quiet Gentleman is false?" "It must be, sir. The man--Lestrange I mean--was not in England when the Quiet Gentleman lived in this village. I believe Brown had to do with the stealing of the body and the murder. But, then, Brown is not Lestrange. Who he is I don't know!" "Alan!" cried Sophy--for if what Lestrange stated was true, this hypocrisy was detestable--"you are not straightforward with me!" "Indeed I am," he said, with a stare of astonishment. "I have told you of my discoveries. Why should I deceive you?" "Why, indeed!" said the girl bitterly. "You know how much I love you, yet you keep me in the dark about matters which concern us both--matters which I, if any one, have a right to know." He might have had some inkling of what she meant, for his face turned a dark red. Nevertheless, he held himself well in hand, and looked inquiringly at the Rector. "What does she mean, sir?" "I think you can guess," said Phelps, more coldly than he had ever before spoken to Alan. "No; upon my word, I----" Sophy rose from her chair and closed his mouth with her hand. "Don't! don't!" she cried despairingly. "I can't bear it. Captain Lestrange----" She hesitated. "Ah!" said Alan fiercely. "I might have guessed he had been making mischief. Well, and what does he say?" "That you stole my father's body, Alan!" "I--I--stole the body?" "Yes!" chimed in the Rector. "And he further says that you took it to the hut on the heath, where Warrender's corpse was found." "Oh, indeed!" cried the young man derisively. "And did I murder Warrender, too?" "Alan! Alan! Oh, don't jest! If you love me, Alan, tell me the truth."