There had been another visitor that afternoon to Hubert's lodgings in Russell Square. Sabina Meldreth had presented herself at three o'clock, and had inquired for Mrs. Vane. She was told that Mrs. Vane had gone out, and was not likely to be back until six or half-past six o'clock.

"And then the General's coming with her," Jenkins had informed her, "and they're to dine together, because it is the first time that master has stayed up to dinner since he was taken ill."

"Oh, that'll do very well for me!" said Sabina sullenly. "I shall see the whole lot of them then, I suppose. I'll wait!" and she planted herself on one of the wooden chairs in the hall.

"Won't you come down-stairs?" said Jenkins. "My missus is there."

"No, I won't. I want to see Mrs. Vane; and perhaps she'll get away or refuse to see me if I am down-stairs. Sitting here, she can't escape so easy. I want Mrs. Vane."

Jenkins shrugged his shoulders.

"You seem to have got a grudge against her," he observed. "Didn't she pay you properly?"

"No, she didn't--not that it's any business of yours," Sabina remarked.

And, after that speech, Jenkins retired with dignity, feeling that it was not his part to converse any longer with a woman who chose to be so very impolite to him.

"She looks very queer!" he observed to his wife down-stairs. "She's in black, and her eyes are red as if she'd been crying, and her face as white as death. I think she looks as if she was going out of her mind."

Whereupon Mrs. Jenkins herself went up-stairs to inspect the dangerous Sabina, but came down with the report that "she looked quiet enough."

And so the afternoon went on--and still Mrs. Vane did not arrive. But Cynthia did.

When Sabina heard Miss West's voice speaking to the maid at the door, she gave a violent start. Then she rose and went cautiously into a little room which opened off the hall, and stood behind the door, so that Cynthia could not see her. As soon as Cynthia had gone up-stairs, Sabina dashed out into the hall again, and inspected the square through the pane of glass at the side of the hall door.

"It's him sure enough," she said to herself, "and his daughter's gone up-stairs! Well, they are bold as brass, the pair of them! They didn't ought to be allowed to escape, I'm sure; but I don't know what to do. I wish Mrs. Vane would come home, and the General too. They'd take care he was nabbed fast enough! And here they come!"

For at that moment Miss Vane's carriage drove up to the door, and out of it came its owner, as well as Mrs. Vane and the General. Sabina opened the door before the man had time to knock. And no sooner had Mrs. Vane entered than she was confronted by Sabina.

"What do you want here!" she asked.

Sabina had, as Flossy expected, come with demands that would not perhaps have been easy to satisfy; but all her plans were swept away by the appearance of Westwood in the square. Sabina did not attempt to stand on ceremony.

"For goodness' sake, ma'am, don't go up-stairs nor let them go just yet!" she said hurriedly. "There's the man Westwood in the square--and his daughter's just gone up to Mr. Lepel. I know him by sight perfectly.

If you want him to be arrested, ma'am, you could get it done now easily."

"What's that?" said old Miss Vane, stepping back with her hand to her ear. "Why are you looking so pale, Flossy? What's all this about?"

Flossy looked at her husband and then looked at Sabina. She would have given anything to stop Sabina's tongue. For the General had never yet been made aware of one half of her manoeuvres, and she did not think that he even knew that Westwood was alive. The whole thing would probably excite him terribly; and there was a certain unsigned document in the General's bureau at home about which Flossy was particularly anxious. She had not wanted him to hear too much about Westwood's fate.

But there was no help for it now. He came forward with his sister, wanting to know what all the disturbance was about, and questioning first one and then another in turn. Sabina was not voluble; but, acting on a hint from Mrs. Vane, she did not at once say how she came to recognise the man. The General flew into a rage, as Flossy had expected him to do, and wanted to go out and lay hands himself on his brother's murderer. With great difficulty his wife and sister persuaded him to listen to reason. The footman was despatched for the police, and Jenkins was deputed to accost the man and bring him to the house. In this last piece of business Flossy took the lead. She had a notion that Jenkins was in Cynthia's confidence, and would not do what was required of him if he knew its purpose; and for that reason she coolly gave him a message from Hubert and Cynthia. Neither the General nor Miss Vane heard it, or perhaps they would not have allowed it to be sent; but it certainly effected all that they desired. Quietly and unsuspiciously Westwood came stepping across the square in Jenkins' wake; and just as quietly was taken up the stairs and shown into a little sitting-room, where it had been decreed that he should be delayed until the police could arrive.

But Westwood was not altogether at his ease. He was surprised to find that neither Cynthia nor Lepel were there to meet him--surprised to find himself left alone in a bare little room for five or ten minutes at the very least. At last he tried the door. It was locked. And then the truth flashed across his mind--he had been recognised--he had been entrapped.

Perhaps even Cynthia and Hubert Lepel were in the plot. They had perhaps meant him to be caught and sent back to Portland, to die like a wild beast in a cage.

"There'll be murder done first!" said Westwood, looking round him for a weapon. "Let's see which is the strongest--Hubert Lepel or me. And now for the door! The window is too high."

He had found a poker, and he dealt one crashing blow at the lock of the door. It was not strong, and it yielded almost immediately. There was a shriek from some one on the stairs--the rush of two men from the hall.

The General and a servant were instantly upon him, and, what was worse, Cynthia's arms were around his neck, her hand upon his arm.

"Father, don't strike! You will kill somebody!" she cried.

"And what do I care? Is it you that have given me up? Do you want me to die like a rat in a hole?" the man cried, trying to shake her off.

But the men were at his side--resistance was useless--the door at the foot of the stairs had been barred, and there was no way of escape.

"The police will be here directly--keep him till they come!" cried the General at the top of his voice. "I shall give him in charge! He is the murderer Westwood, the man who killed my bother, Sydney Vane, and afterwards escaped from Portland Prison, where he was undergoing a life sentence! I remember the man perfectly. Sabina Meldreth, you can identify him?"

"Oh, yes, I can identify him!" said Sabina curtly. "He's Miss West's father, anyway--and we all know who that was. We heard her call him 'father' just now her very self."

The servants tightened their grasp on the man's arm. But at that moment an interruption occurred. The drawing-room door was flung open, and Hubert Lepel, ghastly pale, and staggering a little as he moved, appeared upon the scene.

"This must go no further," he said. "Keep the police away, and let this man go. He is not Sydney Vane's murderer."

"Don't interfere, sir!" shouted the General from the stairs. "This is Westwood, the man who escaped from Portland--and back to Portland he shall go!"

"It is Westwood, I know," said Herbert, supporting himself against the door-post, and looking down calmly upon the excited group below; "but Westwood was not a murderer. General, you have been mistaken all this time. I wish to make a statement of the truth--it was I who killed Sydney Vane! Now do what you like!"

CHAPTER L.

A sudden hush fell upon the group. Each looked at the others aghast. The general opinion was that Mr. Lepel's fever had returned upon him and that he was raving. But at least three persons knew or suspected that he spoke only the truth.

"He's mad--delirious!" said the General angrily. "Take him back to his room, some of you, and help me to secure the criminal!"

"You had better come here and listen to my story first," said Hubert, still clutching at the door to steady himself. "Keep the police down-stairs for five minutes, General, if you please. Neither Westwood nor I shall escape in that time. Jenkins, drop that gentleman's arm!"

Jenkins relinquished his hold of Westwood's arm with great promptitude.

Cynthia said a few words to him in an undertone which sent him down-stairs at once. She had heard the front door open and shut, and believed that the police had come. They, at least, could be detained for a few minutes--she had no hope of anything more; but she felt that Hubert's confession should be made to his own relatives first of all.

She ran to his side and gave him her arm to lean upon, conducting him back to the drawing-room; and thither the others followed her in much agitation and perturbation of mind. The General was almost foaming at the mouth with rage; Miss Vane looked utterly blank and stupefied; Flossy's face was white as snow; Sabina watched the scene with stolid and sullen curiosity; while Westwood marched into the drawing-room with the air of a proud man unjustly assailed.

They found Hubert leaning against the mantelpiece. He would not sit down; but he was not strong enough to stand without support. Cynthia was clinging to him with her face half hidden on his shoulder; his arm was clasped about her waist.

"What does this mean?" said the General.

"It means," answered Flossy's quiet voice, "that Hubert is raving, and that the doctor must be sent for immediately."

"You know better than that, Florence," said her brother. "I speak the truth, and nothing but the truth. I accuse no one else," he said, with marked emphasis; "but I wish you all now to know what were the facts. It was I who met Sydney Vane that day in the fir plantation beside the road that leads up the hill to Beechfield. We quarrelled, and we agreed to settle the matter by a duel. We were unequally matched. He had a revolver and I had this man Westwood's gun, which I found on the ground.

We fired, and Sydney fell."

There was a brief silence. Then a bitter cry escaped from Miss Vane's lips.

"Oh, Hubert, Hubert," she wailed, "can this be true?"

"God knows that it is true!" answered Hubert; and his face carried conviction if his words did not.