"If the hotel keeper can prove your alibi that will be all right, Mr. Dean. But this confession; you say Mr. Alder has it?"
"Yes. But I asked him to make no use of it," replied Dean, "for, as I was in Grangebury on the very night--about the very hour--that Ellen was murdered, I was afraid, if Alder acted on the confession, I might be accused of the second crime. Certainly I had a defence; but the evidence was so strong against me that I did not wish to risk appearing."
"Do you know who killed Miss Gilmar?"
"No!" cried Dean, vehemently, "I do not."
"Then what about these?" said Gebb, and suddenly produced the jewels of Miss Gilmar. "These ornaments belonged to the dead woman; they were taken off her body by the wretch who killed her. I found them hidden in your room at Kirkstone Hall; yet you swear that you do not know the name of the assassin. What am I to understand by this contradiction?"
"It's a plot to ruin me," said Dean, becoming very pale. "I did not know that these jewels were in my room. I never saw them before. Edith! Arthur! What do you know of this?"
"We know nothing," they said simultaneously.
"Come, Mr. Dean," said Gebb, imperiously, "these ornaments would not have been hidden in your room without your knowledge. If your alibi is to be believed you are innocent, but on this evidence you must know who is guilty."
Dean gave a long sigh, and lapsed into his old sullen manner.
"I know nothing about them," he said in a piteous tone; "some one must have put them there. I don't know who. I have told you the truth, but even that will not help one, and I shall be condemned for the second time--an innocent man. Oh, God is cruel--cruel!" and the tears ran down his cheeks.