"I wonder she did," said Prelice reflectively.
"I think it was because she had a sneaking regard for you, Dorry," said the barrister after a pause. "To the last she declared that she was your friend, and hoped that you would be happy. However, she did confess, and yonder is the copy of her confession."
"What does it say?" questioned the other man.
"I am about to read it to you," said Martaban, gathering up the sheets skilfully; "or else, if you prefer it, I can give you a shorter account in the form of a story."
"I should prefer that," said Prelice gravely. "I haven't patience to wait to the end of that long screed to know the exact truth. Who murdered Sir Oliver? Tell me at once."
"Steve Agstone, inspired and coerced by Madame Marie."
"Humph! So Brisson was right after all," commented Prelice. "And who got rid of Agstone?"
"Captain Jadby."
"The deuce!" Prelice raised himself on his couch. "Did he wear that sham frock?"
"He did," said Shepworth quickly; "and being, as you know, slimly built, I quite mistook him for a woman, seeing how clever was the disguise——"