bservation of him, I,
personally, should say he is innocent. But then, you know, I've known
the most hardened and crafty criminals assume an air of innocence, and
keep it up, to the very end. However, we aren't concerned about that
just now--the critical point here, for Harborough, at any rate, is the
evidence against him."

"And what do you think of that?" asked Bent.

"There's enough to warrant his arrest," answered Brereton, "and he'll be
committed on it, and he'll go for trial. All that's certain--unless
he's a sensible man, and tells what he was doing with himself between
eight and ten o'clock last night."

"Ah, and why doesn't he?" said Bent. "He must have some good reason. I
wonder if his daughter can persuade him?"

"Isn't that his daughter coming towards us?" inquired Brereton.

Bent glanced along the road and saw Avice Harborough at a little
distance, hastening in their direction and talking earnestly to a
middle-aged man who was evidently listening with grave concern to what
she said.

"Yes, that's she," he replied, "and that's Northrop with her--the man
that Mallalieu was playing cards with last night. She's governess to
Northrop's two younger children--I expect she's heard about her father,
and has been to get Northrop to come down with her--he's a magistrate."

Avice listened with ill-concealed impatience while Bent delivered his
message. He twice repeated Harborough's injunction that she was not to
be afraid, and her impatience increased.

"I'm not afraid," she answered. "That is, afraid of nothing but my
father's obstinacy! I know him. And I know that if he's said he won't
tell anything about his whereabouts last night, he won't! And if you
want to help him--as you seem to do--you must recognize that."

"Wouldn't he tell you?" suggested Brereton.

The girl shook her head.

"Once or twice a year," she answered, "he goes away for a night, like
that, and I never know--never have known--where he goes. There's some
mystery about it--I know there is. He won't tell--he'll let things go to
the last, and even then he won't tell. You won't be able to help him
that way--there's only one way you can help."

"What way?" asked Bent.

"Find the murderer!" exclaimed Avice with a quick flash of her eyes in
Brereton's direction. "My father is as innocent as I am--find the man
who did it and clear him that way. Don't wait for what these police
people do--they'll waste time over my father. Do something! They