At the sound of Alan's voice Mrs. Warrender started like a guilty thing. He was astonished beyond measure at finding her in the same unsavory neighborhood as himself, bound, for all he knew, on the same errand. At all events, it was surely more than a coincidence that she should be on the threshold of Gramp's dwelling, so to speak.
"Mrs. Warrender," he said, gravely lifting his hat, "this is indeed a surprise. Of course, you know what has happened at Heathton?"
"I know all," answered the woman, in a rich, low voice. "Jarks, the sexton, told my servant this morning what has happened to poor Julian, and that his body has been found in the Marlow vault."
"Are you sure you did not know of it last night?" asked Alan quietly.
"Mr. Thorold!"
The color rushed to her face.
"I mean that the letter which disturbed you so much might have hinted at the murder."
"A letter? How do you know I got a letter last night?"
"The Rector called to break the news to you this morning, and your servant told him that you already knew it; also that you had left for London--with your jewels, Mrs. Warrender," added Alan significantly.
"And you followed me!" cried the woman savagely. "Do you intend to accuse me of my husband's murder?"