morose to all the world
beside. I remember your bringing home a dog with a broken leg, and
nursing it till it was cured. You had pets of all kinds--birds, beasts,
flowers. You never did a cruel thing in your life; and how could I think
then, that you would lie in wait to kill a man out of mere spite and
revenge--a man, too, with a wife and a child--a little girl like me? I
knew you better, father, all the time!"

Westwood shook his head doubtfully.

"Maybe you're right," he said, "and maybe wrong. I've seen rough deeds
done in my day, and never lifted a hand to interfere. I won't deny but
what I did lie in wait for Mr. Vane that very afternoon--but with no
thought of murder in my mind. I meant to tell him what my opinion was of
him and of his doings; for there was carryings-on that I didn't approve
of, and it's my belief that in those very carryings-on lies the key of
the mystery. I've thought it all out in prison, slow-like--at nights
when I lay in bed, and days when I was hewing stone. I won't tell you
the story, my pretty; it ain't fit for the likes of you. But there was a
woman mixed up in it; and, if there was any man who had rights over the
woman--sweetheart or husband, brother or father, or such-like--it's in
that quarter that you and me should look for the real murderer of Sydney
Vane."

"Can't we do anything, father? Won't you tell me the whole story?"

"Not now, my girl; I must be going."

"Where are you going, father? Will you be in a safe place?"

"Quite safe, my dear--quite safe! Nobody would know me in this guise,
would they? I'm at No. 119 Isabella Street, Camden Town--quite a little
out-o'-the-way place--just the sort to suit a quiet respectable-looking
man like me." He gave vent to a grim little chuckle as he went on. "They
don't know who they've got hold of, do they? Maybe they wouldn't be
quite so pleased if they did."

"May I come and see you there, father?"

"Well, my girl, I think not. Such a--a splendid-looking sort of a party
as you've turned out coming to visit me would make people talk. And we
don't want people to talk, do we? Isn't there any quiet spot where you
and me could meet and walk about a bit? Kensington Gardens; maybe, or
Regent's Park?"

Cynthia thought that Kensington Gardens would be quiet enough in the
morning for their purpose, and it was agreed that they should meet there
the next day at noon. Westwood's disguise was so perfect that he did not
attempt to seclude hims