s the moor as he told
it; now dipping into a valley, now rising above the ridge of a low hill;
sometimes pausing altogether as he impressed some particular point upon
her. In the moonlight he could see that she was listening eagerly and
intently, but she never interrupted him and never asked a question. And
at last, just as they came in sight of a light that burned in the window
of a little moorland cottage, snugly planted in a hollow beneath the
ridge which they were then traversing, he brought his story to an end
and turned inquiringly to her.

"There!" he said. "That's all. Now try to consider it without
prejudice--if you can. How does it appear to you?"

Instead of replying directly the girl walked on in silence for a moment
or two, and suddenly turned to Brereton with an impulsive movement.

"You've given me your confidence and I'll give you mine!" she exclaimed.
"Perhaps I ought to have given it before--to you or to Mr.
Tallington--but--I didn't like. I've wondered about Mallalieu! Wondered
if--if he did kill that old man. And wondered if he tried to put the
blame on my father out of revenge!"

"Revenge!" exclaimed Brereton. "What do you mean?"

"My father offended him--not so very long ago, either," she answered.
"Last year--I'll tell you it all, plainly--Mr. Mallalieu began coming to
our cottage at times. First he came to see my father about killing the
rats which had got into his out-buildings. Then he made excuses--he used
to come, any way--at night. He began to come when my father was out, as
he often was. He would sit down and smoke and talk. I didn't like it--I
don't like him. Then he used to meet me in the wood in the Shawl, as I
came home from the Northrops'. I complained to my father about it and
one night my father came in and found him here. My father, Mr. Brereton,
is a very queer man and a very plain-spoken man. He told Mr. Mallalieu
that neither of us desired his company and told him to go away. And Mr.
Mallalieu lost his temper and said angry things."

"And your father?" said Brereton. "Did he lose his temper, too?"

"No!" replied Avice. "He has a temper--but he kept it that night. He
never spoke to Mr. Mallalieu in return. He let him say his say--until
he'd got across the threshold, and then he just shut the door on him.
But--I know how angry Mr. Mallalieu was."

Brereton stood silently considering matters for a moment. Then he
pointed to the light in the window beneath them, and moved tow