"To see me! Why?"
"Because he wants you to hold your tongue about these matters."
"Mr. Tait," she cried, with a sudden flush, "surely you are not biased by Frank's book? You imply that Mr. Hilliston is afraid of the truth."
"I think he is! In fact I am sure he is."
"Do you believe he committed that cowardly crime of twenty-five years ago?" asked Jenny, with scorn.
"What is your own opinion?" was the counter question.
"I believe that Jeringham was the murderer. Yes! Captain Larcher went in disguise to that ball, and learned the truth from the lips of his own wife. I believe she loved Jeringham. I believe he followed her home on that fatal night, urging her to fly. Then Captain Larcher appeared on the scene, and in the struggle that ensued he was killed. Jeringham fled, and Mrs. Larcher died. That, I am certain, is the true history of this crime."
"You, then, think that Mrs. Larcher was privy to the murder?"
"Oh, I don't say that!" said the girl, shrinking back; "it is impossible to say. But I have no right to talk to you about these matters, Mr. Tait. I have told you all I know. Let me pass, please."
Tait bowed, and stood aside hat in hand. She flitted down the aisle, a slim girlish figure, and had arrived at the door when his voice arrested her.