"So do I," said Brenda, quietly. "It was the man you saw at the station on the night of the murder."
Van Zwieten smothered an ejaculation of surprise. "What do you know of him?"
"I know that he killed Mr. Malet--that my father shielded him, and sent him away. You dare not accuse my father of the murder."
"You are willing to risk that by refusing to marry me?"
"Yes; you can do your worst."
The Dutchman seemed rather disconcerted. He had not expected to be defied like this.
"I don't want to proceed to extremities, Miss Scarse," he said doubtfully; "but I know much that may damage your father should it become public. And if you do not care for him, there is Burton to be considered. I can get him also into trouble."
"On what grounds?"
"I won't tell you. Ask him yourself. Ask him why he left Chippingholt so suddenly."
Brenda started, for the remark confirmed her suspicions that Harold was troubled in some way about this crime.