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LOST MAN’S LANE. By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN. [Copyright, 1897, by Anna K. ItohLfa.] CHAPTER XXH. THE THIRD NIGHT. The afternoon was spent not altogeth er unprolitably. Having seen many things in the housekeeping which would bear changing, I took occasion to spend gome time with Hannah in the kitchen, giving her during my visit some hints in regard to household affairs winch if followed would make considerable dif ference in the comfort of those concern ed. She receivtd them patiently, but 1 have seen no change in her manage ment of the kitchen that I feel justified in attributing to my imiuem c. But I know human nature well enough not to have expect* d it. Had the kitchen been far ther from the door of the flower .parlor I might not have thrown away so much energy. ’ • < I did not effect an entrance into the flower parlor, however, nor did 1 suc ceed in seeing any one'else enter it Neither did 1 succeed in making Han nah talk on any other topic than ordi- cury domestic concerns, *i>ut i saw cer tain tilings. I had formed a plan for the night that required some courage. Recalling Ln- cctta's expression of the morning, that I might expect a repetition of the expe rience which, if a dream, had had the appearance of a most formidable reality, I prepared to profit by the warning in a way she had certainly never meant that I should. Satisfied that if there wa« any truth in my suspicions there would be an act performed in this house to night which, if seen by me, would for ever settle the question that was agitat ing the whole countryside, I made up my mind that no locked door should in- t eric re with my opportunity of doing so. How I effected this result I will relate in a few minutes. After an evening more solemn than the day, but characterized, as the two previous ones had not been, by a long talk with the two girls together, I went to my room in a state of seeming fatigue that evidently met with the approbation of Lucetta, who had accompanied me to my door with a lighted candle. “1 hear you hud some trouble with matches last night,” said she. ‘‘You will find them all right now. Hannah must be blamed for some of this care lessness. ’ ’ Then as I began some reas suring reply she turned upon me with a look that was almost fond, and, throw ing out her arms, cried entreatingly: ‘‘Won't yon give me a little kiss, Miss Lutterworth? We have not given you the best of welcomes, but you are my mother’s old friend, and sometimes I feel a little lonely. ” I could easily believe that, and yet I found it hard to embrace her. Too many shadows swam between Althea’s chil dren and myself. She saw my hesitancy (a hesitancy 1 could not but have shown even at the risk of losing her confidence), and, paling slightly, dropped her hands with a pitiful smile. “You don’t like me,” she said. “1 do not wonder, out 1 was in hopes you would for my mother’s sake. 1 have no claims myself. That you must be sure I am thoroughly convinced of.” “You are an interesting girl, and you have, what your mother had not, a se rious side to your nature that is any thing but displeasing to me. But my kisses, Lucetta, ; ro a; var a my tears. I had rather gives . dm .ie. and that is a fact Perl:a’ i r is :•> strong a proof rf affection as any erdinary ear -...- might le. ” “Perhaps,” she murmured, but she did not encourage me to give it to h r notwithstanding. Instead of that she drew back and bid me a gentle good night, which for some reason made me sadder than I wished to be at a erfsi- dentanding so nmch nerve. Then she walk'd quickly away, and I was left to face the night alone. Knowing that I should be rather weakened than helped by the omission of any of the little acts of preparation with which I am accustomed to call my spirits for the night I went through them all with just as much precision as if I had expected to spend the ensuing hours in rest. When all was clone and only my cup of tea remained to be quaffed, I had a little struggle with myself which ended in my not drinking it at all Nothing, not even this com fortable solace for an unsatisfactory day, should stand in the way of my be ing the complete mistress of my wits this night. Had I known that this leva contained a soporific in the shape of a Uttle harmless morphine I would have found this act of self denial much easier. It was now 11. Confident that noth ing would be done while my light was burning, I blew it out, and, taking a candle and matches in my hand, softly opened my door ami after a moment of intense listening stepped out and closed it carefully behind me. Nothing could be stiller than the house or darker than the corridor. “Am I watched or am 1 not watch ed?” thought I, and for an instant stood undecided Then, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, I slipped down the ball to the door beyond mine and, open ing it with all the care possible, ste pped inside. I knew the room. I had taken especial note of it in my visit of the morning. I knew that it was nearly empty and that there waa a key in the lock which 1 could torn. 1 therefore felt more or less safe in it, especially as its window was undarkened by the branches that bung so thickly across my own casement, ■hutting me in, or seeming to shut me in, from all communication with the ontside world and the unknown guard ian which I had been assured constantly attended my summons. That I might strengthen my spirits by one glimpse of this same outside Yprld before settling down to the watch I had set Tor myself T stepped softly to the window and took one lingering look without. A lielt of forest illumined by a gibbous moon met my eyes; nothing else. Yet this sight was welcome, and it was only after I had been struck by the possibility of my own figure being seen at the casement by some possible watch er in the shadows below that 1 found tho hardihood necessary to withdraw into the darker precincts of tho room and begin that lonely watch which my doubts and expectations rendered neces sary. This was the third I had been forced to keep, and it was by far the most dis mal, for though the bolted door be tween me and the hall promised me personal safety there presently rose in some faroff place a smothered repeti tion of t that same rat, tap, tap which had sent the shudders over me upon my sudden entrance, into the house early in the morning. Heard now, it brought a weakness upon me which I did not know existed in my nature, and while with' this recognition of jny feminine susceptibility to impressions there came a certain pride in the stanchuess of pur pose which led me to restrain all ac knowledgment of it by any recourse to my whistle, I was more than glad when even this Sound ceased and 1 had only to expect the swishing noise of a skirt down the hall, and that stealthy lock ing of a door I had taken the precau tion of le:v\ ing. It came sooner than 1 expected, came just in the way it had the previous night, only that the person paused a moment to listen before hastening back. The silence within must have satisfied her, for 1 heard a low sigh like that of relief before the steps took themselves tack. That they would turn my way gave me a momentary concern, hut, no, I had too completely lulled their sus picious, or let me be faithful to all the possibilities of the case, they put per haps too much confidence in the powder with which they had seasoned my nightly cup of tea for them to doubt foom corridor “TSuT as In my anxielyTo determine this fact I slipped far enough forward to make sure that their destina tion lay somewhere within reach of the flower parlor, 1 was so struck by tho ad vantages to be gained by a cautious use of the trapdoor in William’s room that I hesitated no longer, but sped with what swiftness I could toward the spot from which I had so lately heard this str;uige procession c< me. A narrow hand of light lying across the upper cud of this long corridor proved that the door was uot only ajar, but that a second candle waa burning in tho room 1 was about to so daringly in vade, but this was scarcely to be regret ted since there could be no question of | the emptiness of the room. Tho six fig- 1 ures I had seen go by embraced every | one who by any possibility could be considered.as having part in this traus- uctiou—William, Mr. bimsbury, Mis Iviiollys, Lucetta, Hauuah and Mothe Jane. No one else was left to guaro this room, so l pushed tho door open quite boldly and entered. What I saw there 1 will relate later, cr, rather, I will but bint at now. There were a Ltd with a sheet thrown back, a stand covered with vials, a hu rt an with a man’s shaving parapher nalia upon it, and on the wall such pic tures as only sporting gentlemen delight in. The candle was guttering on a small table up* n which, to my momentary as tonishment. a Bible lay open. Not hav ing my glasses w itli me, 1 could not see what portion of the sacred word was thus disclos 'd, but I took the precau tion to indent the upper leaf with my thumb n..il, that 1 might find it again in case of future opportunity. My atten tion v; s attracted by other small mat ters that would lie food for thought at a more propitious moment, but at that instant the sound of voices coming dis tinctly to my ear from below warned me that a halt had been made at the flower parlor and that the duty of tho nicuunt was to locate the trapdoor and if possible uitermlne the means of rais ing it. * J, V.4 z v; 4! 'k W mis* .■Wt 1 m ,41* A. yi* 1 :• & ^) AS I SPOKE, r CAUGHT SIGHT OF THE MARK I ifLl.S LOOKING FOR 1 w; ' r.s. ti • asleep in my own TIjj* • minutes after I bad 1 dlow d tho.-* sreirs a« far down thecorrid >r as 1 :iar -d to go, for since my last appear in' in it a candle bud 1 * on kt in the u.„iii hall, and faint u^\ its pli, r it vu.^ sriil a glimmer ini * tn*; * i. •!*; < f which I felt it would be f< /linudines* for me to step. At some 2U paces t!.< n from flie opening I paus'd and ga myself up to listening. Alas, there \.us pi* uty now for me to Lear. You have heard the sound; ve ail have beard the sound, but f* w of us in a desolate : tructure such as I stood lis toning in and at the hour and under the influences of midnight. Tin- measured tread of men struggling under a heavy weight and that w< ight—how well I knew it; as well as if I had seen it, as I really did in my imagination. It came from the ad/huing corridor, from the room I had found no *<ipor- tuuity of entering that day, and it ap proached surely and slowly the main hall near which 1 was standing, but in such a position it would be impossible for me to see Anything if they took the direc t course to the head of the stairs: and so down, as there was every reason to exjiect they would. I did not dare to advance, however, so concentrated my faculties anew upon listening, till sud denly I perceived on the great white wall in front of me—the wall of the main hall, I mean, toward which the ojs ning looked—the outline of a shadow puss and realized that the candle Ixad been placed in such a position that the wall must receive the full shadow of this passing cortege. And so it was 1 saw it, huge, distorted and suggestive beyond any picture I ever beheld, the passing of a body to its long home, car ried by six anxious figures, four of which seemed to be those of women. But that Iwig home! Where was that likely to be? It was a question so im portant that for a moment I could think of nothing bat how 1 coaid follow them without running the risk of discovery. They had reached the bead of the stairs by this time, and 1 heard Miss Kuollys’ low, firm voice enjoining silence. Then they began to descend. Ere they reached the foot a doubt ■truck me Would it be better to follow them or to take the opportunity of every member of the household being engaged in this task to take a peep into the room where the death bad occurred? 1 had not decided when 1 beard them take the forward conne from the foot o^ the ■tain to what to my ■training ear seemed to be the entrapee to the fining This was less difficult than I antici pated. Either this room was regarded as so sale from intrusion that a secret like this could bo sab ly left unguarded, or ftie door which was plainly to be se«n in one corner bail been lately lifted that it had hardly sunk back into its place. I found it, if the expression may be used of a horizontal object, slightly ajar and needing but the slightest pull to make it spring upright and remain so by means of some mechanical con- trivance 1 will uot attempt to describe. The hole thus disclosed was filled with the little staircase up which 1 had partly mounted in my daring explouu- tious of the day before. It was dark now, darker than it was then, but I felt 1 must descend by it, for plainly to be beard now through the crack in the closet d<xir, which seemed to have a knack of standing partly open, 1 could hear the heavy tread of the six bearers us they entered the parlor below still carrying their burden, concerning the destination of which I was so anxious to gain a clew. That it could be here I knew to be too improbable for consideration. Yet if they took up their stand in this room it was for a purpose, and what that purpose was I was determined to know. The noise their feet made on the bare boards of the floor and the few words I now heard uttered in William’s stolid tones and Lucetta’s musical treble as sured me that my own light steps in the softest of felt slippers would no more be heard than my dark gown of quiet wool would be seen through the narrow slit through which I was pro paring to jieer Yet it t<s.k no small de gree of what my father used to call pluck for me to put foot on this wind ing staircase and descend almost as it were in the midst of what 1 must regard as the last wicked act of a most coward ly and brutal murder 1 did it, however, and after a short but grim communion with my own heart, which would persist in bbatiug somewhat noisily, 1 leaned forward with all the precaution possible and let my gaze traverse the chamber in which I had previously seen such horrors as should have prepared me for this last and greatest one. In a moment I understood the whole. A long square hole in the floor, lately ■awed, provided an opening through which the plain plank coffin, of which 1 now canght sight, was to be lowered in to the cellar and the grave which bad doubtless been dog there. The ropes in the bauds of the six persons, in whose identity 1 bad made no mi stake, was proof enough of their intention, and, sat bsfled as I now was of the means and mode of the interment which had been such a boundless mystery to mo, I shrank a stop upward, fearing lest my indignation and the horror I could not now bat feel for Althea’s children would betray me into some exclamation which might lead to my discovery and a similar fate .One other short glance, in which I saw them all* ranged aroufid tho dark opening, and 1 was up out of their n adi, Lncetta’s face and Lneetta’s one sob as the ropes began to creak being the one memory which followed me the most persistently. She, at least, was overwhelmed with remorse for a deed she was perhaps only answerable for in that she failed to make known to the world her brother’s madness and the horrible crimes to which it gave rise. 1 took one other look around his room before I fled to my own, or, rather, to the one in which I had taken refuge while my own was under lock and key That I spent the next two hours on my knees no one can wonder. When my own door was unlocked, as it was be fore the day broke, I hastened in there and lay my head with all its unhappy knowledge on my pillow. But I did not sleep. Tiie oddest thing of all this was that I never onee thought of giving a single note from the whistle which would have brought the police into that abode of crime. Perhaps it was a wise omission. 1 had seen enough that was horrible for one night without behold ing Althea’s children arrested before my eyes. CHAPTER XXIII. ROOM NO. 3. I rose at my usual hour. I dressed myself with my usual care. I was, to a superficial observer at least, in all re spects my usual self when Hannah came to my door to ask what she could do for me. As there was nothing I wanted but to get out of this house, which certainly was now made unbear able to me, I replied with the utmost cheerfulness that my wants were all supplied and that I would soon be down, at which she answered that in that case sh* must bestir herself or the br- aklast would uot bo ready and hur ried away. , There was no one in the dining room when 1 entered, and judging from ap pearances that it would he some min utes yet before breakfast would bo ready, I took occasion to stroll through the grounds and glance up at the win dow of William’s room. The knot of crape was gone. I would have gone farther, but jnst then I heard a great rushing and scam p-ring and, looking up, saw an enor mous dog approaching at full gallop from the stables. Saracen was loose. I did uot scream or give way to other feminine expressions of fear, but I did r< turn as quickly as possible to tho house, where I now saw I must remain till William chose to take me into town. This I was determined should tako place as soon utter breakfast as practi cable. The knowledge which I now pos sessed warranted, nay demanded, in stant consultation with the police, and as this could be t bo effected by follow ing out the orders 1 had received from Mr. Gryce I did uot consider any other method than that of meeting the man on duty m room No. 3 at the hotel. Loreen, Lucetta and William were awaiting me in the hall and made no apology for the finny into which I Lad been thrown by my rapid escape from Saracen. Indeed I doubt if th* y noticed it, for with all the attempt they made to seem gay and at ease the anxieties and i.;tigue of the fon-going nights were telling upon them, and from Miss Kuol lys down they looked physically ex hausted. But they also looked mentally relieved. In the clear depths of Lncet ta’s eye there was now no wavering, and the head which was always turning in anxious anticipation over her shoul der r sted firm, tlnaagh not as erect as h< r sister’s, who had less cause perhaps for regret and sorrow. William was jovial to a degree, but it was a forced joviality which only be came real when he heard a sudden, quick bank under the w'indow and the sound of scraping paws against the mas tic coating < l the wall outside. Then he broke into a loud laugh of unressraiued pleasure, crying out thoughtlessly: “There's fcaracen. Mow quick he knows”— A warning look from Lucetta stopped him. “I mean,” he stammered, “that it’s a dull dog who does uot know where his master is. Miss Butterworth”—he was absolutely unrestrained in his re stored self confidence—“you will have to overcome your fear of dogs if you stay wish us long. Saracen is unbound this morning, and”—he used a great oath—“he’s going to remain so. ” By which I came to understand that it was uot out of consideration for me he ha<l been tied up in the court till now, but for reasons connected with th*-ir own safety and the preservation of the secret which they so evidently be lieved had been buried with the bodv. which I did not like to remember lay at that very minute too nearly under our feet for my own individual comfort. However, this lias nothing to do with the reply I made to Yv illiam. “I hope,” said I, “he does not run with the buggy. I want to take a ride very much this morning and could get small pleasure out of it if thutd'ig must be our companion. ” “I cannot go out thin morning," William began, but changed his sen tence, possibly at the touch of his sis ter's foot under the table, into: “But if you say I mast, why, I must You women folks are so plagued changeable. Yesterday I wanted to go; today 1 don’t, but don’t let that make any dif ference to you. A host must follow the wishes of his guest. ” Had ho been ton years younger 1 would have boxed his ears; had he been that much older 1 would have taken cue and packed np my trank before he could have finished the cup of coffee he was drinking. But ho was just too * Id to reprimand—that is, in that way, s;:d ndt old enough to appreciate any dis play of personal dignity or self respect Besides, he was a knave; so I just let his impertinence pass with the remark: “1 have purchases to make in tho vil lage,” and so that matter ended, mani festly to the two girls’ relief, who natu rally did uot like to soe mo insulted even if they did no f possess sufficient power over their brother to prevent it. One other small episode and then 1 will take you with me to tho village. As we were leaving the table, where I ate less than common, notwithstanding all my efforts to seem perfectly uncon cerned except at those demonstrations of Saracen, from which they all expect ed me to shrink, Lucetta, who had waited for her brother to go out, took me gently by tho urm, and, looking at me closely, said: “Did you have any dreams last night, Miss Butterworth? You know I promised yon soma ” I was a little takeu aback and for a moment felt like taking those two girls into my confidence and bidding them fly from the shame and doom so soon to fall upon their brother, but the real principle underlying all such momentary impulses on my part deterred me, and in as light a tone as I could assume and not bo an absolute hypocrite I replied that I was sorry to disappoint her, but I had no dreams, which seemed to please her more than it should, for if I had had no dreams 1 certainly had suffered from the most dreadful realities. I will not describe that ride into town. Saracen did go with us, and in dignation uot only rendered me speech less, but gave to my thoughts a turn which made that half hour of very lit tle value to me. Mother Jane’s burly ; figure crouching in her doorway might otherwise have given me opportunity for remark, and so might the dubious looks of people we met on the high road—looks to which 1 am so wholly unaccustomed that I had difficulty in recognizing myself as the butt of so much doubt and possibly dislike. I at tributed this, however, all to the ill re pute under which William so deserved ly labored and did uot allow myself to more than notice it. Indeed, I could only be sorry for people who did not know in what consideration I was held at homo and who, either through igno rance or prejudice, allowed themselves privileges they would be the first to re gret did they know tho heart and mind of the real Amelia Butterworth. Once in the village, I took the direc tion of affairs. “Set me down at the hotel, ” said I, “and then go about such business as you may have here in town. I am not going to allow myself to be tracked all over by that dog. ” “I have no business. ” was the surly reply. “Then make some,” was my sharp retort. “I want to see the locksmith— that locksmith who wouldn’t come to do an honest piece of work for me in your house, and I want to buy dimities and wools and sewing silks at the dry goods store over there. Indeed I have a thou sand things to do and expect to spend half the morning before the counters. Why. mini, I haven't doueany shopping for a we* k.'' Ht gaped at me perfectly aghast (as 1 meant ho should) and, having but little expe:i> fi ‘e of city ladies to go by, took me a my word and prepared to beat an houo .ble retreat. As a result I found mvs< If t n minutes lat; r standing on the h.^ step < f the hotel porch, watch ing William driving away with Saracen perched <*n the seat beside him. Then 1 realized that the village held no com panions, for him and did uot know whether I felt glad or sorry To the clerk who came to meet me 1 said quietly, “Room No. 3 if you please,” at which he gave a nod of in telligence and led me as unostentatious ly as possible into a small hall, at the end of which 1 saw the number I had asked for “If you will take a spat inside,” said he, “I will send you whatever you may desire for your comfort. ” “I think yon know what that is, ” said L at which he nodded again and left me, closing the door carefully be hind him a* he went. Tin* few minutes which elapsed be fore my quiet was disturbed were spent by me in thinking. 1 had not only in formation to give to the police, hut 1 had many little questions to settle in my own mtud, for which a spsll of un interrupted contemplation was neces sary One of these was whether, in tho event of finding the police amenable, 1 should reveal or hide from these chil- dren of my *dd friend the fact that it was through my instrumentality that their nc- arious secset had been discov ered. 1 wished—I hoped—that the affair might be so concluded, but it all seemed so impossible, especially since Mr. Gryce was not on hand to direct mat ters, that I spent very little time on this subject, deep and important as it was to all concerned. The thing to which I devoted my most serious attention was the necessity of telling my story so as to exonerate the girls as much as possible. They wen; mistaken in ti. ir devotion and most unhappy in the exercise of it, hut tb*y were not innately wicked and shout 1 not be made to appear so. Per haps the one thing for which I shonld yet have the Lest cause to congratulate myself would bo the opportunity I had gained to give to their connection with the affair its true and proper coloring. 1 was still dwelling on this thought when there came a knock at my door which advised me that the visitor I ex pected had arrived. To open and admit him was the work of a moment, bat it took more than a moment for me to overcome my surprise at seeing in my visitor no lec-ser person than Mr. Gryce himself, who in our parting interview had assur«*d me be was too old and too feeble for such affairs and most there fore delegate them to ma “Ah!” I ejaculated slowly. “It is you, is it? Well, I am not surprised. (I ■bouldn’t have been.) When you say you are old, yon mean old enough to pull the wool over other people's eyee, and when you say you are lame you mean that you only halt long enough to let others get far enough ahead for them ui.l to see bow fast you hobble up be hind them. But do uot think I am not glad enough to see you. I am, Mr. Gryce, for I have discovered tho secret of Lout Man's lane and find it somewhatf t - heavy a "in- for my own handling.” On :he instant, knowing him now as 1 do, i mw that this was more than he exfiected. “You have?” he asked, with just that shad*' of incredulity which it is so tan talizing to encounter. “Then I suppose congratulations aro in order. But are you sure. Miss Butter- worth, that you really have obtained a clew to the many strange and fearful disappearances which have given to this lane its name.” “I could not bo surer,” said I. “fori have seen with my eyes and almost touched with my hands tho l>ody of one of tho victims. ” “Quite sure,” I returned, nettled. “Why do you doubt it? Because I have kept so quiet ami not sounded one note of alarm from my whistle?” “No,” said he. “Knowing your self restraint so well, I cannot say that that is my reason.” “What is it, then?” I urged. “Well,” said he, “my real reason for doubting if you have been quite as suc cessful as you think is that we ourselves have come upon a clew about which there can be no question. Can you say the same of yours?” You will expect my answer to have been a decided “Yes,” uttered with all the positiveness of which you know me to be capable. But for some reason, perhaps because of the strange influence this man’s personality exercises on all— yes, all—who do not absolutely steel themselves against him, I faltered just long enough for him to cry: “I thought not. The clew is outside the Knollys house, not in it, Miss But terworth, for which, of course, you are uot to be blamed or your services scorn ed. I have uo doubt they have been in valuable in unearthing a secret, if not the secret. ’ ’ “Tliauk you,” was my quiet retort. I thought his presumption beyond all bounds and would at that moment have felt justified in snapping my fingers at the clew that he so boasted of had it not been for one thing. What that thing is I am uot ready yet to state. “You and I have como to issue over such matters before,” said he, “and therefore need uot tako t*x) much ac count of the feelings it is likely to en gender. I will merely state that my clew points to Mother Jane and ask if you have found iu the visit she paid at the. house last night anything which would go to strengthen the suspicion against her.” “Perhaps,” said 1 in a state of dis dain that was more or less unpardon able considering that my own suspicious previous to my discovery of the real tragedy enacted under my eyes at the Knollys mansion had played more or less about this old crone. “Only perhaps?” He smiled, with a playful forbearance with my mood for w lie i I should have bieu truly grate ful to him. “She was there for no good purpose,’ said 1, “and yet if you had not charac terized Lvr as die person most responsi ble lor the crimes we are here to inves- ti . ::e I should have said from all that I saw then and previously of her con duct that -he acted a.-, a supernumerary rather than principal, and that it is to roe you should look for the correct clew to the criminal, notwithstanding your confidence iu your own theori s and my mom n:cry hesitation to as.-rt that t* . it waa no possible d feet in mine.” “Miss Bntterwortfa,”—I thought he lo<4 • d a trifle shak* n—"what did Moth er Jane do iu tiiut closely shuttered house last night?” Mother Jauu? W<11! Did bethink 1 w:.s going to introduce my tragic 1 st' ry by telling what Mother Jane didl I must have looked irritated, and in- ' deed I think I had cause. “Mother Jane ate her supper,” ] snapped out angrily. “Miss Kuollys ga\* it to her. Then she helped a little with a piece of work they hud on hand. It will uot interest yon to know what. It ha ti ithiug to do with your clew, 1 warrant.” He did uot get augry. He has an ad miral I- temper, lias Mr. Gryce, but he did stop a minute to consider. “Mi-s Butterworth,” he said at last, “most detectives would have held their peace and let you go on with what you have to tell w ithout a hiut that it was either unwelcome or unnecessary, but 1 Lave consideration for persons’ feelings and for j ;. is’secrets so long as they do not come in collision with the law, and my opinion is, or was win n I en- ; t< red this room, that such di. -overies as ' you have made at yonr old friend’s house (why need he emphasize friend— did he think I forgot for a moment that Althea was my friend?) were con nected rather with some family diffi culty than with the dreadful affair ws are considering That is why I hastened to tell yon that we m*.i ■ ...m a clew to the disappearances and in Mother Jane’s cottage. I wished to save tins Miss Knollys.” If he had thought to mollify me this way, he did not succeed. He saw it and made haste to say: “Not that I doubt your consideration for them, only the justness of your con clusions. ” “Yon have doubted those be-fore and with more reason, ” I replied, “yet they ' were uot altogether false.” “That 1 am willing to acknowledge, so willing that if yon still think after I have told my story that yours is apro pos and tonches the case then I will lis ten to it only too eagerly. My object is to find the real criminal in this matter. I say at the present moment it is Moth er Jane. ” “God grant it is so,” 1 Kiid. influ enced in spite of myself by the calm as surance of bis manner. “If she was at the house night before last between 11 and 13, then perhaps she is. Bat 1 see no reason to believe it—not yet. Mr. Gfcorot ttaoDodiur T oa give me cxm. It