d fain, if I could, do something for his
nephew. If there be anything to tell, tell it like a man."

Still Cousin Henry sat silent. He was unable to summon courage at the
instant sufficient to deny the existence of the secret, nor could
he resolve to take down the book and show the document. He doubted,
when the appearance of a doubt was in itself evidence of guilt in the
eyes of the man who was watching him. "Oh, Mr Griffith," he exclaimed
after a while, "will you be my friend?"

"I will indeed, Mr Jones, if I can--honestly."

"I have been cruelly used."

"It has been hard to bear," said Mr Griffith.

"Terrible, terrible! Cruel, cruel!" Then again he paused, trying to
make up his mind, endeavouring to see by what means he could escape
from this hell upon earth. If there were any means, he might perhaps
achieve it by aid of this man. The man sat silent, watching him, but
the way of escape did not appear to him.

"There is no mystery," he gasped at last.

"None?" said the farmer severely.

"No mystery. What mystery should there be? There was the will. I
have destroyed nothing. I have hidden nothing. I have done nothing.
Because the old man changed his mind so often, am I to be blamed?"

"Then, Mr Jones, why do you not say all that in a court of law,--on
your oath?"

"How can I do that?"

"Go to Mr Apjohn, and speak to him like a man. Bid him bring an
action in your name for libel against the newspaper. Then there will
be an inquiry. Then you will be put into a witness-box, and be able
to tell your own story on your oath."

Cousin Henry, groaning, pale and affrighted, murmured out something
signifying that he would think of it. Then Mr Griffith left him. The
farmer, when he entered the room, had believed his landlord to be
innocent, but that belief had vanished when he took his leave.

CHAPTER XIV

An Action for Libel

When the man had asked him that question,--Is there any secret you
can tell?--Cousin Henry did, for half a minute, make up his mind
to tell the whole story, and reveal everything as it had occurred.
Then he remembered the lie which he had told, the lie to which he
had signed his name when he had been called upon to prove the will
in Carmarthen. Had he not by the unconsidered act of that moment
committed some crime for which he could be prosecuted and sent
to gaol? Had it not been perjury? From the very beginning he had
determined that he would support his possession of the proper