ome to much harm by driving
round about Portman Square for a few minutes, in the company of an old
woman! Dickerson," she went on, as Selwood motioned Peggie to enter the
car, "drive us very slowly round about here until I tell you to stop--go
round the square--anywhere."

The car moved gently up Baker Street, and Selwood glanced inquiringly at
their captor.

"May we have the pleasure of----"

The elderly lady brought out a card-case and some papers.

"I am Mrs. Engledew," she said. "I live in the Herapath Flats. I don't
suppose you ever heard of me, Miss Wynne, but I knew your uncle very
well--we had been acquaintances, nay, friends, for years. I thought it
might be necessary to prove my _bona fides_," she continued, with a
laugh, "so I brought some letters of Jacob Herapath's with me--letters
written to me--you recognize his big, bold hand, of course."

There was no mistaking Jacob Herapath's writing, and the two young
people, after one glance at it, exchanged glances with each other.

"Now you want to know why I am here," said Mrs. Engledew. "The answer
is plain--if astonishing. I have managed to get mixed up in this matter
of Jacob Herapath's murder! That sounds odd, doesn't it?--nevertheless,
it's true. But we can't go into that now. And I cannot do more than tell
you that I simply bring a message and want an answer. My dear!" she
continued, laying a hand on Peggie's arm, "you do not wish to see
Barthorpe Herapath hanged?"

"We believe him innocent," replied Peggie.

"Quite so--he is innocent--of murder, anyway," said Mrs. Engledew.
"Now--I speak in absolute confidence, remember!--there are two men who
know who the real murderer is. They are in touch with me--that is, one
of them is, on behalf of both. I am really here as their emissary. They
are prepared to give you and the police full particulars about the
murder--for a price."

Selwood felt himself grow more suspicious than ever. This lady was of
charming address, pleasant smile, and apparently candid manners,
but--price!--price for telling the truth in a case like this!

"What price?" he asked.

"Their price is ten thousand pounds--cash," answered Mrs. Engledew, with
a little shrug of her shoulders. "Seems a great deal, doesn't it? But
that is their price. They will not be moved from it. If Miss Wynne will
agree to pay that sum, they will at once not only give their evidence as
to the real murderer of Jacob Herapath, but they will point him out."