"I didn't sleep at all. I walked the whole night, and by dawn I was out of London. I lost myself several times in the fog and twice had a row with a tramp or two. Then I took a train at a wayside station to Gravesend, and crossed the river to Tilbury."

"Didn't anyone ask questions?"

Bernard shook his head. "The new Yeomanry uniform wasn't known in those parts. I expect the gaiters made people think I was a farmer. I took the train to Pitsea, and then came on here under cover of night. It was ten o'clock by the time I got here."

"What did you do in the meantime?"

"I loafed about the taproom of a pub, and made out I was a horse-dealer buying horses for the war. No one suspected me, and I managed to sustain my part perfectly."

"Did Mrs. Moon admit you at once?"

"No. She was in bed. But when she came to the door she seemed disinclined to admit me. I produced your letter, and after she read it, which took about a quarter of an hour, she let me in. Then next morning I wrote to you."

"What made you think of this place, Bernard?"

"I could think of nowhere to hide," said Gore, leaning back with a weary sigh. "And after all," he added, with a glance round, "this is a very good _cache_."

Conniston nodded. "You are quite safe here. I will show you the way to the vaults, and should there be any chance of your being discovered you can hide there."

"Does Victoria know about the vaults?"

"I can't say. Probably that Judas brat has told her. He was brought up here, and knows every nook and cranny of the castle. And now, Bernard, we must have a good dinner, and then you can tell me whom you suspect of committing the crime."

CHAPTER X

A STATEMENT OF THE CASE

Bernard, _alias_ Mr. Grant, had made free with Conniston's clothes, as Mrs. Moon had stated. But, being much taller than his friend, he looked rather uncomfortable, and indeed had hidden the shortcomings of the garments under a gorgeous dressing-gown, a relic of d.i.c.k's 'Varsity days. But Conniston had procured through Durham several suits of Gore's clothes which had been left behind at the Hall when he was turned away by his grandfather. These he had brought with him, and Bernard was glad enough to get into comfortably-fitting garments. These, and the society of Conniston, a good dinner and the super-excellent port made him feel a new man.

After dinner the two friends piled the fire with great logs as it was freezing hard without. Mrs. Moon brought up coffee hot and strong, and when she left the room the young men produced their pipes. Then Conniston sat on one side of the fire and Bernard on the other, and both of them prepared to go into the case and to see exactly how matters stood.

"In the first place," said d.i.c.k, filling his pipe carefully, "let us consider what actually happened. Sir Simon was alone that evening."

"He was when I found him dead, unless you call Mrs. Gilroy anyone."

"I call her a very important person," said d.i.c.k, dryly. "I tell you what, Gore, you evidently don't know everything. Just tell me what you do know."

"I have told you," said Bernard, impatiently. "I left Durham's house at ten o'clock; you mentioned the time yourself."

"I did," responded Conniston, gravely, "and I mentioned also the day of the month. It was the----"

"The twenty-third of October. Shall I ever forget a date so ominous to me? I left the house, and a small boy stopped me. He said that a lady--he did not mention her name--had told him to inform me to follow him to the Red Window."

"Your cousin Lucy knew of that?"

"Yes. And I thought the lady in question was Lucy, but the boy did not mention any name. He simply said that he had been spoken to by the lady down Kensington way. Now I knew from Durham that Lucy was living with Sir Simon, who was in Crimea Square, Kensington, and that knowledge, coupled with the mention of the Red Window, made me follow the boy."

"Can you describe the lad?"

"Not very well. I caught a glimpse of him under a lamp-post, but the fog was so thick that I obtained only a vague impression. He seemed to be a fair, innocent-looking boy with fair hair--the kind of pure angelic creature depicted by painters as a chorister."

"By Jove!" Conniston dashed down his pipe excitedly. "You describe Judas to the life. The plot thickens."

"The plot----"

"The plot which was to involve you in the crime, and, by Jove! those who contrived it must have hired Judas to be your guide."

"Are you sure that this is the lad--Mrs. Moon's grandson?"

"As sure as I can be from your word-painting. Jerry--Judas suits him much better--is just what you say: an innocent, b.u.t.ter-won't-melt-in-my-mouth sort of brat who looks like an angel and acts like a denizen of the infernal regions. And now I remember," went on d.i.c.k, "the little brute spoke to me after you left me when we talked in the Park. He was then bare-footed and selling matches."

"This boy must be the same," said Bernard, thoughtfully. "He also had bare feet and carried boxes of matches in his hand."

"It's Judas sure enough!" muttered Conniston, pulling his mustache and staring gloomily into the fire. "I wonder what he was doing in that galley? You followed him?"

"Yes, because he mentioned the Red Window. But for that I should have suspected something wrong. I don't care about following strange urchins.

But only Lucy knew about the Red Window."

"She might have told Beryl."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. Go on with your tale."

"Well, I followed the boy. He kept a little ahead of me, and several times when I got lost in the fog he reappeared."

"Judas is as clever as his father, the Accuser of the Brethren. How long were you getting to Crimea Square?"

"Allowing for stoppages, three-quarters of an hour. All the trouble took place about a quarter to eleven."

"Did you see the Red Window?"

"I saw a red glare in a window on the first floor. I don't suppose the gla.s.s was red, but think some red material must have been placed over a lamp and that placed close to the window."

"Might have been a blind," mused d.i.c.k, "and yet when Beryl looked and his friend Mrs. Webber they saw no Red Window. Are you sure?"

"I am certain," responded Gore, emphatically. "When I saw the Red Window I was convinced that Lucy had sent for me, and, thinking that she had persuaded my grandfather to relent, I would have entered the house for a personal interview but that Mrs. Gilroy came out."

"Could you be seen from the house?"

"I don't think so, the fog was very thick remember."

"Was any signal given?"