"I believe he is what is called a Little Englander."
"An unpopular part at present, Mr. Burton. I am an Imperialist myself. H'm! so Miss Scarse is engaged to Captain Burton, is she? She called here at nine last night and asked for Lady Jenny, Roberts tells me."
"Perhaps you'll accuse her of the murder next!" said Wilfred, contemptuously.
"I accuse no one as yet, sir. But I must have my facts quite clear, and I go to get them. Good-day, sir," and Mr. Woke departed to call in at "The Chequers," with Captain Burton still the central figure in his mind.
But Harold was not at the inn. Late in the morning he had called at the cottage to see Brenda, and discuss with her the very stirring events of the previous might. She received him in the drawing-room, and, thankful to find that he was alive and well, embraced him more than ever affectionately. The poor girl looked ill and pale, for all this trouble had shaken her nerves more than she cared to confess. And in truth Harold himself did not feel much better, although he showed it less markedly. Mr. Scarse being shut up as usual in his study, they had the room to themselves. Van Zwieten had gone out.
"I had no chance, dear, of speaking to you last night," said Harold. "Tell me how you came to hear about this murder?"
"Harold, dear, I saw it committed!"
The man turned pale. "You saw it committed?" he repeated. "Why, Brenda, who did it?"
"I don't know. I had gone to the Manor to see Lady Jenny. I thought she might be able to help you about this money and on my way home I was caught in the storm. In a vivid flash of lightning I saw Mr. Malet sheltering under a tree. I did not know then that it was Mr. Malet. After that I heard a cry, and then a shot. I ran forward, and stumbled over the body. Then I fainted, I think, but as soon as I was able I made my way home. It was only when I met you that I knew that Mr. Malet was the victim. Oh, Harold, dearest, I thought all the time it was you!"
"What on earth put such an idea as that into your head?" he asked in amazement.