"That would not have brought it upon me," said Richard. "It was through that fiend's having killed Hallijohn; that was what brought the ban upon me."

"It's a most extraordinary thing, if anybody else did kill him, that the facts can't be brought to light," retorted Miss Carlyle. "Here you tell a c.o.c.k-and-bull story of some man's having done it, some Thorn; but n.o.body ever saw or heard of him, at the time or since. It looks like a made-up story, Mr. d.i.c.k, to whiten yourself."

"Made up!" panted Richard, in agitation, for it seemed cruel to him, especially in his present frame of mind, to have a doubt cast upon his tale. "It is Thorn who is setting the officers upon me. I have seen him three or four times within the last fortnight."

"And why did you not turn the tables, and set the officers upon him?"

demanded Miss Carlyle.

"Because it would lead to no good. Where's the proof, save my bare word, that he committed the murder?"

Miss Carlyle rubbed her nose. "d.i.c.k Hare," said she.

"Well?"

"You know you always were the greatest natural idiot that ever was let loose out of leading strings."

"I know I always was told so."

"And it's what you always will be. If I were accused of committing a crime, which I knew another had committed and not myself, should I be such an idiot as not to give that other into custody if I got the chance? If you were not in such a cold, shivery, shaky state, I would treat you to a bit of my mind, you may rely upon that."

"He was in league with Afy, at that period," pursued Richard; "a deceitful, bad man; and he carries it in his countenance. And he must be in league with her still, if she a.s.serts that he was in her company at the moment the murder was committed. Mr. Carlyle says she does; that she told him so the other day, when she was here. He never was; and it was he, and no other, who did the murder."

"Yes," burst forth Miss Carlyle, for the topic was sure to agitate her, "that Jezebel of bra.s.s did presume to come here! She chose her time well, and may thank her lucky stars I was not at home. Archibald, he's a fool too, quite as bad a you are, d.i.c.k Hare, in some things--actually suffered her to lodge here for two days! A vain, ill-conducted hussy, given to nothing but finery and folly!"

"Afy said that she knew nothing of Thorn's movements now, Richard, and had not for some time," interposed Mr. Carlyle, allowing his sister's compliments to pa.s.s in silence. "She heard a rumor, she thought, that he had gone abroad with his regiment."

"So much the better for her, if she does know nothing of him, sir," was Richard's comment. "I can answer for it that he is not abroad, but in England."

"And where are you going to lodge to-night?" abruptly spoke Miss Carlyle, confronting Richard.

"I don't know," was the broken-spirited answer, sighed forth. "If I lay myself down in a snowdrift, and am found frozen in the morning, it won't be of much moment."

"Was that what you thought of doing?" returned Miss Carlyle.

"No," he mildly said. "What I thought of doing was to ask Mr. Carlyle for the loan of a few shillings, and then I can get a bed. I know a place where I shall be in safety, two or three miles from here."

"Richard, I would not turn a dog out to go two or three miles on such a night as this," impulsively uttered Mr. Carlyle. "You must stop here."

"Indeed I don't see how he is to get up to a bedroom, or how a room is to be made ready for him, for the matter of that, without betraying his presence to the servants," snapped Miss Carlyle. And poor Richard laid his aching head upon his hands.

But now Miss Carlyle's manner was more in fault than her heart. Will it be believed that, before speaking the above ungracious words, before Mr.

Carlyle had touched upon the subject, she had been casting about in her busy mind for the best plan of keeping Richard--how it could be accomplished.

"One thing is certain," she resumed, "that it will be impossible for you to sleep here without its being known to Joyce. And I suppose you and Joyce are upon the friendly terms of drawing daggers, for she believes you were the murderer of her father."

"Let me disabuse her," interrupted Richard, his pale lips working as he started up. "Allow me to see her and convince her, Mr. Carlyle. Why did you not tell Joyce better?"

"There's that small room at the back of mine," said Miss Carlyle, returning to the practical part of the subject. "He might sleep there.

But Joyce must be taken in confidence."

"Joyce had better come in," said Mr. Carlyle. "I will say a word to her first."

He unlocked the door and quitted the room. Miss Carlyle as jealously locked it again; called to Joyce and beckoned her into the adjoining apartment. He knew that Joyce's belief in the guilt of Richard Hare was confirmed and strong, but he must uproot that belief if Richard was to be lodged in his house that night.

"Joyce," he began, "you remember how thoroughly imbued with the persuasion you were, that Afy went off with Richard Hare, and was living with him. I several times expressed my doubts upon the point. The fact was, I had positive information that she was not with him, and never had been, though I considered it expedient to keep my information to myself.

You are convinced now that she was not with him?"

"Of course I am, sir."

"Well, you see, Joyce, that my opinion would have been worth listening to. Now I am going to shake your belief upon another point, and if I a.s.sure you that I have equally good grounds for doing so, you will believe me?"

"I am quite certain, sir, that you would state nothing but what was true, and I know that your judgment is sound," was Joyce's answer.

"Then I must tell you that I do not believe it was Richard Hare who murdered your father."

"Sir!" uttered Joyce, amazed out of her senses.

"I believe Richard Hare to be as innocent of the murder as you or I," he deliberately repeated. "I have held grounds for this opinion, Joyce, for many years."

"Then, sir, who did it?"

"Afy's other lover. That dandy fellow, Thorn, as I truly believe."

"And you say you have grounds, sir?" Joyce asked, after a pause.

"Good grounds; and I tell you I have been in possession of them for years. I should be glad for you to think as I do."

"But, sir, if Richard Hare was innocent, why did he run away?"

"Ah, why, indeed! It is that which has done the mischief. His own weak cowardice was in fault. He feared to come back, and he felt that he could not remove the odium of circ.u.mstances. Joyce I should like you to see him and hear his story."

"There is not much chance of that, sir. I dare say he will never venture here again."

"He is here now."

Joyce looked up, considerably startled.

"Here, in this house," repeated Mr. Carlyle. "He has taken shelter in it, and for the few hours that he will remain, we must extend our hospitality and protection to him, concealing him in the best manner we can. I thought it well that this confidence should be reposed in you, Joyce. Come now and see him."

Considering that it was a subdued interview--the voices subdued, I mean- -it was a confused one. Richard talking vehemently, Joyce asking question after question, Miss Carlyle's tongue going as fast as theirs.

The only silent one was Mr. Carlyle. Joyce could not refuse to believe protestations so solemn, and her suspicions veered round upon Captain Thorn.

"And now about the bed," interjected Miss Carlyle, impatiently. "Where's he to sleep, Joyce? The only safe room that I know of will be the one through mine."

"He can't sleep there, ma'am. Don't you know that the key of the door was lost last week, and we cannot open it?"

"So much the better. He'll be all the safer."

"But how is he to get in?"