"Mr. Garth told me your name and your errand."
"Oh!" cried Fanks, remembering Garth's excuse for retiring to bed on the previous night. "So you are Mrs. Jerusalem?"
"That is my name; and I wish to tell you--"
"I wish to hear nothing," said Fanks, roughly. "Mr. Garth had no business to speak about me. What is there between you and him that he should act in this underhand way without telling me? He said he was going to bed last night. Instead of that, he sneaks out and sees you."
"There you are wrong," replied Mrs. Jerusalem, still without a trace of emotion. "Mr. Garth did not come to me. On the contrary, it was I who came to him at the inn while you were talking to Mrs. Prisom. He came out of his bedroom to see me for a few moments; and then I went away."
"And why did he not tell about this meeting?" asked Fanks, angrily.
"Because I asked him not to. I wished to take you by surprise. If you had heard of my midnight visit, you might mistrust me; as it is--"
"As it is, I mistrust you still. Well, Mrs. Jerusalem, we will waive the point. I know you accuse Sir Louis of this murder. Is it to betray the master whose bread you eat, that you have sought this meeting?"
"That is just why I am here," was the quiet reply. "I hate my master--"
"Because his father, Michael Fellenger, treated you ill. I know all about that, Mrs. Jerusalem."