"I left him in charge of another fellow. He's still at Gattlinsands. Wait, I'll explain later. But my news. The consumptive chap attended by Jerce--one of the Purple Fern murderers, was--who do you think?--none other than Frank Clarke, the vicar's son."
[CHAPTER XXII]
THE ANONYMOUS LETTER
The announcement of Ackworth was so terrible, and so unexpected, that Clarice could scarcely believe her ears. She knew that Frank Clarke was a rascal and extravagant, that he was selfish and dishonourable, but it never entered her head that he would turn out to be a cold-blooded murderer. No wonder the vicar, who had forgiven much to his prodigal son, had stopped short of finally pardoning such an unmitigated scoundrel.
"He must have known what Frank was," said: Clarice, involuntarily.
"Who must have known?" asked Anthony, quickly.
"Mr. Clarke. He was here a short time ago, and would not let me mention his son's name. He must know. Yes," Clarice struck her hands together, "this was why he refused to let Prudence marry Ferdy."
"I thought that it was Prudence herself who refused to marry Ferdy."
"Yes, but for another reason. I told you that reason--the accusation of Mr. Clarke by Zara Dumps."
"I remember." Anthony ruffled his hair in sore perplexity. "What have you done about that?"