"It is St. Catherine's cross," said Fanks, recalling the mark on Hersham's arm. "Perhaps Sir Francis attached some meaning to it. Do you know if he tattooed anyone else with the same symbol?"
At this remark Mrs. Prisom suddenly desisted from her occupation, and not only refused to speak but taxed Fanks with trying to fathom her meaning for some ill purpose. "Why should you come down here, and ask questions about Sir Francis Fellenger?" she asked, with a troubled look; "why do you wish to know all these things?"
There was no help for it. If Fanks wished to learn the truth he would have to tell her the real purpose of his visit; and then out of love for the memory of Sir Francis she might do what she could to aid him to discover the person who had murdered Sir Gregory. Resolving to risk all on the casting of this die, he spoke out boldly and to the point. Yet he approached the old lady with a certain amount of caution.
"I have an important reason for asking you these questions," he said, in an earnest tone, "and I shall tell you my reason shortly. But first say if you regretted the death of Sir Gregory."
"I regretted it because he was the son of his father, but I did not care over much for him. He was a bad man, Mr. Fanks, a very bad man. I loved the father as an old playmate, and as one who was always kind to me and mine; but the son--ah!" Mrs. Prisom shook her head and sighed.
"You know that he was murdered?"
"Yes; but they never found out who murdered him."
"No; they are trying to find out now. You may be able to help me to do so."
"Help you?" said the old lady, in a frightened tone. "Who are you, sir?"
"My name is Fanks, as, you know, Mrs. Prisom. But what you do not know is that I am a detective, anxious to learn who killed Sir Gregory."