and I'm ready to swear to it through all the courts
in Christendom. She hated you like pisen, and the baronet, too, and
she thinks she's put an end to you both; but if we don't give her an
eye-opener pretty soon, my name ain't Parmalee."

She sunk on her knees and held up her clasped hands.

"Thank God! thank God! thank God!"

Next day they sailed for England. The passage was all that could be
desired, even by the impatience of Harriet.

They arrived in Liverpool. Mr. Parmalee and his companion posted full
speed down to Devonshire. In the luminous dusk of the soft May evening
they reached Worrel, Harriet's thick veil hiding her from every eye.

"We'll go to Mr. Bryson's first," said Parmalee, Bryson being Sir
Everard's lawyer. "We're in the very nick of time; to-morrow morning
at day-dawn is fixed for----"

"Oh, hush!" in a voice of agony; "not that fearful word!"

They reached the house of Mr. Bryson. He sat over his eight-o'clock
cup of tea, with a very gloomy face. He had known Sir Everard all his
life--he had known his beautiful bride, so passionately beloved. He
had bidden the doomed baronet a last farewell that afternoon.

"He never did it," said he to himself. "There is a horrible mystery
somewhere. He never did it--I could stake my life on his
innocence--and he is to die to-morrow, poor fellow! That missing man,
Parmalee, did it, and that fierce young woman with the big black eyes
and deceitful tongue was his aider and abettor. If I could only find
that man!"

A servant entered with a card, "G. W. Parmalee." The lawyer rose with
a cry.

"Good Heaven above! It can't be! It's too good to be true! He never
would rush into the lion's den in this way. John Thomas, who gave you
this?"

"Which the gentleman is in the droring-room, sir," responded John
Thomas, "as likewise the lady."

Mr. Bryson rushed for the drawing-room, flung wide the door, and
confronted Mr. Parmalee.

"Good-evening, squire," said the American.

"You here!" gasped the Sawyer--"the man for whom we have been scouring
the kingdom!"

"You'd oughter scoured the Atlantic," replied the artist, with infinite
calm. "I've been home to see my folks. I suppose you wanted me to
throw a little light on that 'ere horrid murder?"

"I suspect you know more of that murder than any other man alive!" said
the lawyer.

"Do tell! Well, now, I ain't a-going to deny it--I do know all about
it, squire."

"What?"

"Precisely!