"Policeman, let me go," said Gore, firmly. "There is some mistake."
"The magistrate will decide that. Help will be here soon, and then you'll be lodged in jail."
"Mrs. Gilroy," cried the young man, overwhelmed with horror, "you know I am innocent."
"No," she said fiercely, and with her eyes on his face. "You came to see Sir Simon after ten. I let you in myself. I waited below while you spoke with Sir Simon, and you left fifteen minutes ago. I went upstairs to see my master. He was dead—strangled. I ran out calling murder, and you were almost on the doorstep."
"I had only just come."
"Come back, you mean," said the officer.
"To see if poor master was dead," shrieked the cook.
"Oh, Bernard—Bernard!" sobbed Jane, "how could you kill him! Lor'! that I should have kissed a murderer."
"Hark!" said Mrs. Gilroy, raising her hand, "footsteps. The other police are coming. Take him away to jail, officer."
"This is a trick—a trap!" cried Bernard, struggling to get free. "I never was in the house before—"