Everyone started. The General uttered an inarticulate cry of rage; then his head dropped on his hands, and he did not speak again. In vain Hubert tried to silence the speaker.
"Keep your story for another time," he said. "There is no need to make such accusations now. You cannot substantiate them, and you are only paining General Vane."
"You'd better ask Miss Enid, sir," said the woman half defiantly, half desperately. "She knows. It troubled her a good bit as to whether she ought to tell the General or not; but I believe she decided not. Mrs. Vane thought that if she married you you would keep her quiet. My mother confessed it all to Miss Enid on her death-bed. I expect the Rector knows too by this time. He was always trying to get it out of me."
"Can this be true?" said Hubert, half to himself and half to the General. But the old man, with his head bowed upon the table, did not seem to hear.
"It's true as Gospel!" said Sabina. "And I don't much care who knows it now. My prospects are all gone, as far as I can make out. This gentleman here is not the murderer, it seems, and so I sha'n't get the three hundred pounds for finding him; and Mrs. Vane's payments will be stopped now, no doubt. She was giving me two hundred a year. I'll take less if you like to give me something, sir, for going away and holding my tongue. When Mrs. Vane knew about—about me, and mother was in trouble over my misfortune, it was just at the time when your own little baby was born, sir. It was a boy too, and it died when it was only twelve hours old. And Mrs. Vane spoke to mother about my baby that was just the same age; and mother and I both thought it would be a good thing if my little boy could be made the heir of Beechfield Hall. For in that way Mrs. Vane's position would be better, and she would be able to pay mother and me a good round sum. And so we settled it. But now poor little Dick's dead and gone, and all Mrs. Vane's schemes have come to naught. Mother always said that there would be a bad ending to the affair."
"You seem to have forgotten, young woman," said Andrew Westwood sternly, "that there is a God above us all who takes care of the innocent and punishes the guilty."
"I'd not forgotten it," said Sabina, confronting him with an unabashed air; "but I hadn't believed it till now."
At that moment an inspector in plain clothes, who had been hastily fetched from Scotland Yard, made his way into the room and inquired what he was wanted for.
"We shall both have to go with you, I think," said Hubert firmly, glancing at Westwood as he rose. "I presume that you cannot liberate Mr. Westwood at once."
"What—Westwood the convict? I should think not!" said the inspector briskly; and he made a sign to his men, who stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs.