"Hang! Gilbert! G.o.d forbid! Whatever she may have done she's only a child, and I'm persuaded that at heart she's as innocent as you or me."

"If she isn't more innocent than I am I'm sorry for her. Will you take me to see this paragon of all the feminine virtues?"

"You wear your cynicism like a cloak; it's not such an essential part as you choose to imagine."

Ernest Gilbert smiled as if he would show his teeth.

Mr Stacey led the way to an apartment which was called the red drawing-room, where already that afternoon Miss Arnott had interviewed Hugh Morice and Mrs Forrester. It was a pleasant, well-lighted room, three windows ran up one side of it almost from floor to ceiling. The girl was standing in front of one of these as the two men entered, looking out on to the Italian garden, which was a blaze of sunshine and of flowers. Mr Stacey crossed to her with his somewhat exuberant, old-fashioned courtesy.

"Permit me, my dear young lady, to offer you a chair. I think you will find this a comfortable one. There, how is that?" She had seated herself, at his invitation, in a large, straight-backed armchair covered with a fine brocade, gold on a crimson background, whose age only enhanced its beauty. "As I was telling you just now, I have heard, to my great distress, that several things have happened recently, hereabouts, which could hardly tend to an increase of your comfort."

"No, indeed."

"Part of my information came from my very good friend here, and he will be your very good friend also if you will let him. Let me introduce you to Mr Ernest Gilbert."

In acknowledgment of the introduction the girl inclined her head. Mr Gilbert gave his a perfunctory little shake, as if he had a stiff neck.

"I am glad to meet you, Mr Gilbert. I was sorry to learn from Mr Morice that you have sent me back my money and refused to defend Jim Baker."

Mr Stacey interposed before the other had a chance to answer.

"Quite so, my dear young lady, quite so; we will come to that presently. Mr Gilbert came to see me this morning on that very subject.

It is in consequence of certain communications which he then made to me that we are here. You instructed him, from what I understand, to defend this unfortunate man."

"Which he at first consented, and then declined to do."

This time it was Mr Gilbert who interposed, before Mr Stacey was ready with his reply.

"Stacey, if you don't mind, I'll speak. I think it's possible that Miss Arnott and I may understand each other in half a dozen sentences."

Mr Gilbert was leaning over the back of a chair, right in front of her.

The girl eyed him steadily. There was a perceptible interval, during which neither spoke, as if each was taking the other's measure. Then the girl smiled, naturally, easily, as if amused by some quality which she discerned either in the lawyer's terrier-like countenance or in the keenness of his scrutiny. It was she who was the first to speak, still with an air of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I will try to understand you, and I should like you to understand me.

At present I'm afraid you don't."

"I'm beginning to."

"Are you? That's good news."

"Your nerves are strong."

"I've always flattered myself that they weren't weak."

"You like plain speaking."

"I do--that is, when occasion requires."

"This is such an occasion."

"I think it is."

"Then you won't mind my asking you a plain question."

"Not at all."

"Who killed that man in Cooper's Spinney?"

"I don't know."

"You are sure?"

"Quite."

"Are you aware that Jim Baker thinks you killed him?"

"I am."

"And that Hugh Morice thinks so also?"

"I know he did think so; I fancy that now he has his doubts--at least, I hope he has."

"How do you explain the fact of two such very different men being under the same erroneous impression?"

"I can't explain it; I can explain nothing. I don't know if you are aware that until quite recently I thought it was Mr Morice himself who killed that man."

"What made you think that?"

"Two or three things, but as I am now of a different opinion it doesn't matter what they were."

"But it does matter--it matters very much. What made you think that Hugh Morice killed that man?"

The girl turned to Mr Stacey.

"Shall I answer him? It's like this. I don't know where Mr Gilbert's questions may be landing me, and I don't want to have more trouble than I have had already--especially on this particular point."

"My dear young lady, if your own conscience acquits you--and I am sure it does--my strongest advice to you is, tell all you have to tell. The more light we have thrown on the matter the better. I grieve to learn that the finger of scandal has been pointed at you, and that, if we are not very careful, very serious and disagreeable consequences may presently ensue. I implore you to hide nothing from us which may enable us to afford you more than adequate protection from any danger which may threaten. This may prove to be a very grave business."

"I'm not afraid of what may happen to me, not one bit. Pray don't either of you be under any delusion on that point. What I don't want is to have something happen to anyone else because of me." She addressed Mr Gilbert. "What use will you make of any information which I may give you with regard to Mr Morice?"

"If it will relieve your mind, Miss Arnott, and enable you to answer my question, let me inform you that I am sure--whatever you may suppose to the contrary--that Hugh Morice is not the guilty person."

"Why are you sure?"

"First, because I know him; and he's not that kind of man. And second, because in the course of a lengthy interview I had with him I should have perceived something to cause me to suspect his guilt, instead of which I was struck by his conviction of yours."

"Now I also believe he is innocent--but I had reasons for my doubts; better ones than he had for his doubts of me."