"Claude La—— What do you mean, Mr. Tait? I am in the dark. I do not understand. Have I done anything wrong in—in——"
"In telling the case to Linton?" finished Tait smoothly. "By no means. As a matter of fact you have done my friend a service."
"He is called Larcher! Who is he?" she asked again with an effort.
"He is the son of George Larcher, who was murdered at Horriston in 1866."
CHAPTER XXIII.
FACT AND FICTION.
A silence ensued between them; Tait waiting to mark the effect of his revelation, while Jenny tried to grasp the idea that fiction had changed unexpectedly to fact. To her the case had been more or less of a romance, far removed and impossible; as such she had told it to Linton; but now, brought face to face with the fact that the murdered man's son was in the neighborhood, she scarcely knew what to think, certainly she was ignorant what to say. The shock would have unstrung a more nervous woman, but Jenny Paynton was not wanting in pluck, and so braced herself up to do what was required of her. Yet it took her a little time to recover, and seeing this, Tait afforded her the opportunity by talking broadly of the matter; later on he intended to enter into details.
"I do not wonder you are startled, Miss Paynton," he said easily; "this is a coincidence such as we rarely meet with in real life. My friend was ignorant of his father's fate, but one evening papers were put into his hands which recounted the tragedy; papers similar to those whence you obtained the story. He came to tell me all, but scarcely had he begun his relation, when I became aware that I knew everything beforehand."