Giles shook his head. He was not going to betray Anne to her enemy, as Steel in his detective capacity assuredly was. "I wish I did," he said. "I have been at Rickwell trying to find out things. I'll tell you of my discoveries later. Meantime——"
"You want to hear about mine," cried the detective eagerly and full of his subject. "Well, the murder can wait. I'll get to the bottom of that, Mr. Ware. But I am now quite of your opinion. Miss Denham is innocent. This man Wilson killed the girl."
"I knew that Walter Franklin was guilty," cried Ware.
"I said Wilson," was Steel's reply.
"I forgot; you don't know about Wilson alias Franklin. I'll tell you later. Go on, Steel. I'm all attention."
"Oh! So his real name is Franklin. I never knew that," said Steel, drawing his hand down his chin. "Well, Mr. Ware, I have been to all the ports in the kingdom, and I have learned that wherever that yacht—she's a steam yacht—The Red Cross has been, burglaries have been committed. At last I managed to lay my hand on a member of the gang, and made him speak up."
"What gang?"
"A gang of burglars headed by the man I call Wilson and your Franklin—the Scarlet Cross Society. They own that yacht, and steam from port to port committing robberies. A splendid idea, and Wilson's own."
Then he unfolded to the astonished Giles a long career of villany on the part of the said Wilson. The young man shuddered as the vile category of crime was unrolled. It was horrible that such a wretch as Walter Franklin should be the father of Anne. But for all her parent's vices, Giles never swerved from the determination to marry the girl. He was not one of those who think that the sins of the father should be visited on the child.
"What is the name of the man who confessed all this?" asked Giles.