He reached the house at last, and stepping in through the French window that led to the great drawing-room by the back way, rang a bell there and waited for the maid who answered to come and speak to him.

"I want Miss Duggan, please."

The maid withdrew with a discreet, "Yessir," and it was not many seconds later when Maud Duggan herself appeared, looking pale and distraite and exceedingly unhappy.

"You wanted me, Mr. Deland?"

"I did. Just for a moment," replied Cleek gently, noting her dark-ringed eyes, and in the present state of his mental peregrinations feeling more than a little sorry for her. "I've something to show you. And I want you to tell me exactly to whom they belong and how you think they got where my boy discovered them."

Then he pulled the wrappings from his bulky parcel and set the hunting-boots in front of her upon a little marquetrie table.

She gave a sudden start, went pale as death, and shut her hands against her heart as though to stop its unruly beating. Her pale lips trembled.

"Angus's!" she exclaimed in a wrung voice. "Where--did you find them?"

Cleek turned his head away, not to see her evident distress. It hurt him miserably to hurt her. It was like whipping a faithful dog that trusted you.

"I thought so. The name, you see, is inside. My man found them hidden in the shrubbery, just near the gates, and brought them along to me at once. Do you know anything about how they got there, Miss Duggan?"

She shook her head vigorously.

"No. Not a single idea of it, Mr. Deland. That I swear," she returned with emphasis. "Those boots are undoubtedly Captain Macdonald's, of that I am sure. And see, as you say, there is the name inside. But they have not been used by him for a long, long time. It was nearly six months ago, I think, that he left them here, after a meet in our grounds, and before Father had found out anything about our--our caring for each other. He stayed the night, Mr. Deland, and Ross lent him some sleeping things, and then one of the men-servants carried his hunting togs over to his place the next day."

"And these boots?"

"Were left behind by mistake. He called for them, but I asked him not to take them away. You see, I--liked to have them here, for silly, sentimental reasons, no doubt. But I told him I loved to see them with the other men's boots--Ross's and Father's and Cyril's and Mr.

Tavish's--in our harnessing-room, where the groom, Jarvis, always takes care of them and keeps them oiled, when not in use, to prevent them cracking. And so Angus laughed at me, and said they might stay, as he'd another pair at home--and teased me terribly over my babyishness. It may sound silly to you, Mr. Deland, but it meant a lot to me to see those boots there--_belonging_--where I belonged. It was like--a peep into the future.... And when the trouble with Father came, I wanted them there more than ever, to keep my heart up. To my knowledge they have never been moved."

"And yet my man Dollops found them under the shrubbery and in this condition this morning--after last night's terrible affair, Miss Duggan," put in Cleek quietly, keen eyes upon her face.

"It certainly looks black for Angus, Mr. Deland," she replied in a frightened voice. "But I'll swear he never used them. I'll swear it in court, if need be."

"How do you know?"

She stopped a moment and sucked in her breath, and then a sudden look of determination came over her face.

"Because," she said steadily, "he was coming to meet _me_ in the grounds last night, as he had come often enough before. We could never see each other in daylight, as Father had forbidden him the house and so we stole our meetings at night, under the old oak tree at the bottom of the first lawn. You can't see it from the house, as that hedge of yew hides it entirely."

"And you saw him last night? You'll swear upon that?"

"I--I--that is--_yes_, I saw him last night," she replied, with flaming cheeks and upthrown chin. "First Ross, and now Angus! You're cruel, Mr.

Deland, cruel as detectives can so often be! I thought you were going to help me--truly--and, instead, you cast suspicions upon the two people I love most dearly in the world! How can I possibly put you upon other clues? _Anything_ to lead you away from such a false and utterly unworthy scent!"

Cleek laid a hand upon her arm, and bending his head, looked down at her, a great sadness upon his face.

"Justice is so often cruel, Miss Duggan," he said quietly, "and to men in my profession we have so often to be cruel to be kind. I wouldn't hurt you for the world, believe me. But I must do my duty to the Law that employs me at all costs. I am not indicting your fiance--truly--and there may be still another way out. Men have borrowed each other's boots before now. And if you can tell me the size of the feet of the men in this household, it will be a considerable help."

She lifted her eyes and looked at him, filled with a sudden hope.

"I can tell you Ross's this minute," she said quickly. "He takes eights.

He has a small foot, like poor old Father had. And Cyril's, of course, is just a boy's foot--sevens, I think."

"Any one else?"

"The butler, Jarvis. Our groom, Batchett, and the old gardener, McGubbins--and Mr. Tavish; but he's a huge man, and would take elevens, I should imagine--if not bigger. Anyhow, I'll make inquiries, and be back with you in ten minutes, if that will do."

"Make it twenty minutes, _here_--for I've other things to attend to,"

returned Cleek with a smile. "And don't worry more than you can help.

Things will right themselves in time, you know; and there are lots of blind alleys in the pursuit of Justice which we often imagine to be the royal road to Rome. In twenty minutes, then. By the way, who attends to your laundry, may I ask? The sorting and counting of it I mean."

"You amazing man! What on earth do you want to know that for? Why, the laundry-maid, supervised by Miss McCall. One of her endless stream of duties."

"Thanks.... One more question. What do you know of Miss Catherine Dowd?"

She shook her head.

"Only that she is Cynthia's cousin," she returned uncertainly, "and that she has been staying down here on and off all through the spring.

She--she's rather fond of Ross, I believe, Mr. Deland--though for mercy's sake don't whisper it aloud! We call her 'La Gioconda,' you know. She's so odd and inscrutable."

"Exactly. I nicknamed her that myself. And I'll tell you another secret, too. She brought me this morning the stiletto which so obviously stabbed your father. She says she found it sticking in the curtains. Have you ever discovered that the young lady lies, Miss Duggan?"

She gave a quick, uneasy laugh, and shrugged her shoulders.

"Ross always says he wouldn't trust her on sight," she paraphrased, with a nervous gesture. "We've tripped her up--on purpose--lots of times, you know, as girls do to one another. But to men, it seems a mean trick, I expect, Mr. Deland. Only, she elaborates so frightfully, you know. About her family and their money, and all the rest of it. And that's such frightfully bad form. If people really 'belong,' they don't have to advertise the fact, do they? And Catherine advertises it rather too much. But I don't know anything actually against her."

"Thanks. And what of this Johanna McCall? Where did she originally come from? Do you know?"

Her face softened visibly. You could see that Miss McCall held a warm place in her heart.

"Yes. I can tell you at once. Her foster-father used to be a bailiff of my father's in the good old days when money wasn't so hard to get, and even land seemed to yield a richer harvest. The old man died at his work, and as he was a widower, with this little adopted daughter living with him, he begged Father to see that she came to no harm.

And Father promised. And when she grew old enough, he gave her work in the house. Sort of secretary--Mother's help, you know. But when he remarried, Paula changed all that, and took her for her own sort of companion-lady's-maid. I believe she would have left us before now, after the treatment she has had, if it hadn't been for Father being her guardian, so to speak. But none of us can ever forgive Paula for the way she has treated her. It's disgraceful."

"And yet your father never complained?"

"My father never _saw_. But the girl has been made a pack-horse from the minute Paula set her foot in this house. She seemed to have marked her down for her own, and Johanna has had to suffer in consequence. Such a nice little thing, too! It's common knowledge that she is engaged to Mr.

Tavish--though we've heard nothing definitely. But it will be an excellent match. More in her own station of life; and they're both such dears.... Anything else, Mr. Deland?"

"Nothing else, thanks."

"Then I'll be off. And back again in twenty minutes. And in the meantime, Mr. Deland, you won't--you won't think too hard of my Angus will you? Even if he had done such a terrible thing whatever reason would he have had to do it?"

"Has he any debts, Miss Duggan?"

She laughed a little and shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens, yes! Heaps of them. That was what Father had against him. Father used to say that a poor man should own nothing, because there was little chance of paying it back. But so have I, for the matter of that. Over a hundred pounds--and bridge debts. But it's my only recreation, Mr. Deland, and I can easily pay it back, so that it's n.o.body else's business, is it? But I wouldn't have Paula know for worlds! She'd make my life misery."

"As she'd make any one's--who stood in her way," thought Cleek, as the girl left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. "So the worthy Captain is a debtor, is he? H'm. A very uncomfortable state of affairs, I imagine. And that poor girl has only thrown fuel upon the smouldering fire, and helped to bank it up. For a man who is dogged by debts would stoop to a good deal, and if he is already in correspondence with her stepmother, by way of this little clandestine note, why shouldn't he do other things? There's a good haul, at any rate, bigger than that for which many a worse crime has been committed. And, besides, he must have hated the old man for forbidding him the house. So he might have worked off a bit of that, too. And yet--gad, it's a puzzler! I'll nip after Mr.

Narkom and have a little talk with _him_! And--no!--I'll see the laundry-maid first. Perhaps by now she will have remembered something with regard to that missing handkerchief."