"Very good. And, Mrs. Timber, should Joe Brill come, show him in here." "Joe Brill!" yelped the landlady, throwing up her hands. "You don't mean to say as he's back, Mr. Alan! Well, I never did! And I thought he'd run away because of the murder." "You think too much, Mrs. Timber. Some day you will get yourself into trouble. Now go, and don't forget my orders." Chilled by the severity of his tone, Mrs. Timber crept away, somewhat ashamed. Alan knocked at the door, heard the thin voice of Lestrange call out "Entrez," and went in. The man was lying on the sofa, reading a French novel by the light of a petroleum lamp, and smoking a cigarette. When Alan appeared, he rose quickly into a sitting position, and stared at his visitor. Of all men, the last he had expected to see was the one he had so basely accused. The thought flashed into his mind that Thorold had come to have it out with him. But Lestrange, whatever his faults, was not wanting in a certain viperish courage. He rose to greet his enemy with a smile which cloaked many things. "Good-evening, Mr. Thorold," he said, with a wary glance; "to what am I indebted for this visit?" "You shall know that before long," replied Alan, closing the door. He was now considerably cooler, and had made up his mind that more was to be got out of this man by diplomacy than by blind rage. "Have I your permission to sit down?" he asked, with studied politeness. "Certainly, my dear sir. Will you smoke?" "No, thank you." "Have some refreshment, then?" "No, thank you." "Ah!" sneered Lestrange, throwing himself again on the couch, "your visit is not so amiable as I fancied. You come as my enemy." "Considering your behavior, it would be strange if I came as anything else." "My behavior?" "I refer to your interview with Mr. Phelps and Miss Marlow." "Mademoiselle Lestrange, if you please." "Ah, that is for you to prove!" "I shall prove it," said the other, quite unmoved, "in open court." "That will be a harder task than you imagine," retorted Alan quickly. "But I am not here to discuss Miss Marlow's parentage. My errand is to ask you why you have accused me of taking away the body of her father." "Richard Marlow was not her father," replied the man with heat. "So you say--we can pass that point, as I told you before. I speak of the charge you have thought fit to bring against me." "It is a true one. I am willing to take it into court." "You may be brought into court sooner than you expect," remarked Alan dryly; and from the sudden start the man gave he saw that the shot had gone home. "On what grounds do you base this charge?" "If Mr. Phelps reported the interview correctly, you must know," said he sullenly. "To save time," retorted Alan, "I may as well admit that I do know. Jarks and Cicero speak the truth." Lestrange looked surprised. "Then you admit your guilt?"