"Clement Austin, and a man—a detective——"
"Clement Austin—your lover—your confederate? You have betrayed me, Margaret!"
"I!" cried the girl, looking at her father.
There was something sublime in the tone of that one word—something superb in the girl's face, as her eyes met the haggard gaze of the murderer.
"Forgive me, my girl! No, no, you wouldn't do that, even to a loathsome wretch like me!"
"But you will go away—you will escape from them?"
"Why should I be afraid of them? Let them come when they please, they have no proof against me."
"No proof? Oh, father, you don't know—you don't know. They have been to Winchester. I heard from Clement's mother that he had gone there; and I went after him, and found out where he was—at the inn where you stayed, where you refused to see me—and that there was a man with him. I waited about the streets; and at night I saw them both, the man and Clement. Oh! father, I knew they could have only one purpose in coming to that place. I saw them at night; and the next day I watched again—waiting about the street, and hiding myself under porches or in shops, when there was any chance of my being seen. I saw Clement leave the George, and take the way towards the cathedral. I went to the cathedral-yard afterwards, and saw the strange man talking in a doorway with an old man. I loitered about the cathedral-yard, and saw the man that was with Clement go away, down by the meadows, towards the grove, to the place where——"
She stopped, and trembled so violently that she was unable to speak.
Joseph Wilmot filled the glass with brandy for the second time, and put it to his daughter's lips.