s --"

"The escaped convict, sir--Selden, the criminal."

"That's the truth, sir," said Barrymore. "I said that it was not
my secret and that I could not tell it to you. But now you have
heard it, and you will see that if there was a plot it was not
against you."

This, then, was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions at
night and the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both stared at
the woman in amazement. Was it possible that this stolidly
respectable person was of the same blood as one of the most
notorious criminals in the country?

"Yes, sir, my name was Selden, and he is my younger brother. We
humoured him too much when he was a lad, and gave him his own way
in everything until he came to think that the world was made for
his pleasure, and that he could do what he liked in it. Then as
he grew older he met wicked companions, and the devil entered
into him until he broke my mother's heart and dragged our name in
the dirt. From crime to crime he sank lower and lower, until it
is only the mercy of God which has snatched him from the
scaffold; but to me, sir, he was always the little curly-headed
boy that I had nursed and played with, as an elder sister would.
That was why he broke prison, sir. He knew that I was here and
that we could not refuse to help him. When he dragged himself
here one night, weary and starving, with the warders hard at his
heels, what could we do? We took him in and fed him and cared for
him. Then you returned, sir, and my brother thought he would be
safer on the moor than anywhere else until the hue and cry was
over, so he lay in hiding there. But every second night we made
sure if he was still there by putting a light in the window, and
if there was an answer my husband took out some bread and meat to
him. Every day we hoped that he was gone, but as long as he was
there we could not desert him. That is the whole truth, as I am
an honest Christian woman, and you will see that if there is
blame in the matter it does not lie with my husband, but with me,
for whose sake he has done all that he has."

The woman's words came with an intense earnestness which carried
conviction with them.

"Is this true, Barrymore?"

"Yes, Sir Henry. Every word of it."

"Well, I cannot blame you for standing by your own wife. Forget
what I have said. Go to your room, you two, and we shall talk
further about this matter in the morning."

When they were gone we looked out of the window again. Sir H