It was four o'clock when George left Bawdsey. The two had spoken little of the newspaper paragraph which informed them of Lola's escapade. Although her name was not mentioned there was no doubt in the mind of Brendon that she was the culprit. The newspaper gave the year of the book when the sheet was torn, and that corresponded to the year when Percy Vane married--or had been supposed to marry--Rosina Lockwood. And this was the explanation of Lola's absence from town. She had not fled from the rebuke of Brendon, but had gone to do him an injury by destroying the evidence of his parents' marriage. This finally was the meaning of her wild threat to Dorothy. By preventing George from proving his legitimacy, Lola hoped to put a final end to his chance of making Miss Ward his wife.

Bawdsey was much upset over the news. He would have flown immediately to Wargrove, but some special business kept him in town. However, he purposed to go the next morning by the first train. Bawdsey did not think that Brendon had sufficient interest in Lola to go down to Wargrove at once. But George was going that very day, all the same. Lola could not have known that his parents had been married at Wargrove without having seen Mrs. Jersey's confession wherein the fact was probably mentioned.. Therefore she must have obtained the confession in some way. How she achieved this, George could not conjecture. Then he thought of Lola's hot Spanish blood, of the stiletto--a peculiarly foreign weapon--and shuddered. It occurred to him that Lola herself must have stabbed the woman.

However, he put this thought aside for the moment and set about getting to Wargrove. On consulting an A. B. C. he found that a train left Liverpool Street Station for Southend at ten minutes past five, and that Wargrove was a tiny rural town which could be reached in an hour. Ever quick and expeditious in his movements, George had entered a Strand shop to buy the railway guide, and, having ascertained about the train, he simply stepped into his cab and ordered the man to drive to Liverpool Street. At the appointed time he was on his way down the country.

This precipitancy of action was due to a dread lest Bawdsey should change his mind and see Lola, first. Certainly the detective had spoken frankly, and his conduct appeared to be dictated by sentiments of honor. Nevertheless, George felt that Bawdsey was playing a part and that this apparent honesty was not his real character. It behooved him to be on his guard against him; and to know as much about the death of Mrs. Jersey as Bawdsey did, so as to able to counterplot him if necessary. From the fact that she was in Wargrove, Lola evidently had possession of the confession. If Bawdsey saw her he would doubtless try and get it from her, to learn the name of Percy Vane's assassin. George wished therefore to forestall Bawdsey, and to make Lola surrender the confession--always presuming she had it--to himself. For this reason he departed quickly for Wargrove. At the Liverpool Street Station he examined all the passengers as they entered the train. Bawdsey did not put in an appearance, and as the next train would not depart for another two hours George felt that he had stolen a march on the detective. Bawdsey would never think that he had acted with such promptitude.

It was a dull journey, as Brendon was worried by a commercial traveler who would talk politics. George put him off as civilly as possible, and finally turned his prattle--for it was little else--to his own advantage by asking for the whereabouts of Wargrove. It seemed that the new town of Wargrove was the place where the train stopped, but Old Wargrove was three miles distant, and it was there that the parish church was situated. The commercial traveler followed up this information with many details concerning the manners and customs of the natives, which bored George to distraction. However, he listened quietly, and paid as little attention as was consistent with politeness. His officious companion watched for the station, and roared out the name when the train stopped. George thanked him and alighted, glad to be relieved of such a weary talker. And till the train was moving the man leaned out of the window shouting directions as to the best way to reach Old Wargrove.

As it proved there was no necessity for George to go there. Lola was stopping in the policeman's house prior to her removal to the prison at Chelmsford. Her attempt at robbery had been committed on the previous day, and Brendon thought she would have already been removed. However, he was informed that there was some delay owing to the illness of the Chelmsford inspector, and therefore Lola would have to remain in Wargrove for another twelve hours. Brendon was glad to hear this, as it would save him a long journey. He thanked the policeman who had explained, and was directed by the man to the house of his superior officer, which was on the outskirts of the town. George soon found a semi-detached house with a notice on it, and on knocking at the door explained his errand to a brisk little woman. She pursed up her lips, looked inquisitively at him with bright eyes, and called her husband. The policeman was a burly, slow-witted, fat man who seemed nervous on being asked for a sight of the prisoner, for such Lola was to all intents and purposes. He did not want to exceed his duty. George produced a sovereign, but the official, although his eyes twinkled, hesitated to take the bribe. It was then that Mrs. Policeman came to Brendon's assistance.

"Nonsense, Jeremiah," she said briskly. "Let the young gentleman see his young lady. She's dying to have a sight of him."

"How do you know that she is my young lady?" asked George.

Mrs. Policeman nodded with her arms akimbo. "Why she's been crying out in that foreign way of hers for George--George----"

"That is my name certainly."

"And you are her gentleman. She told me what you were like, and cried all the time, poor soul. Tall, fair, with eyes of blue."

"It's all very well," grumbled Jeremiah. "But 'tis against the law."

"You can be present at our interview if you like."

"There, Jeremiah, you can't have the gentleman saying fairer than that." Here the sharp little woman nudged her husband's arms. This was a hint for him to swallow his scruples and take the sovereign. Jeremiah agreed, and shortly the sovereign was in his pocket and he was leading George to a back upstairs room.

"We'd have put her in the best parlor," he said, "as I always like to make 'em comfortable. But she'd have run away, so we was obliged to keep her in the room with the bars on the window."

"Poor Lola," thought George, as he conjured up the small stuffy room and the barred window.

But the room was not so comfortless as Jeremiah stated, thanks to Mrs. Policeman. It was small, certainly, but it was neatly furnished as a bed-sitting-room. The window was certainly barred, but there was no other sign that it was a prison cell. Before introducing George to this abode, it struck Jeremiah that the prisoner had been inquired for as "the young lady." He stopped Brendon at the door. "Might you know her name, sir?"

"Of course I know it," replied George, promptly. "Don't you?"

"Now I do," said Jeremiah, with a heavy nod, "but it was a rare time afore she'd speak. My missus got it out of her. Loler Veal it is, she says, and she's by way of being on the stage."

"She is the most celebrated dancer in London, and her name is Lola Velez," said George. "I don't suppose she'll be punished much for this. She's mad at times."

"Oh, if she's mad she'll get off lightly, but them parish register to be torn--it's bad work that. My father were a sexton," explained Jeremiah, soberly.

"And naturally you think Mademoiselle Velez has committed the most atrocious of crimes. But don't stand chattering here, my good fellow. I have to return by the nine train."

"I'll wait outside," said Jeremiah, on whom Brendon's generosity and peremptory manner had made an impression, "but you won't give her poison, or knives, or that, sir?"

George laughed. "No. She is the last person to use them if I did supply her with such articles."

"She's a lively young woman," said the policeman, and slowly unlocked the door. George was admitted, and then Jeremiah, so as to give the lovers--as he thought them--an opportunity of meeting unobserved, retired, locking the door after him. Lola and George were together.

She was seated by the window staring out into the darkness. On the table was a small lamp, and a fire burned in the grate. Lola started up when the door closed again. "Who is--who is?" she asked in her rapid way, and came toward him.

"Lola," began George, but he got no further. She ran forward and flung herself with tears at his feet, clutching his legs and wailing:

"Oh, my dear one, hast thou come in anger? Trample me, make me as earth, beloved, but be not enraged--ah, no--ah, no!"

"Lola. Get up and don't be a fool," said Brendon, speaking roughly to brace her nerves.

She rose, sobbing, and crept to a chair in a slinking manner, quite unlike her usual free grace. She did not raise her eyes, and George was pained to see the change. Badly as she had acted, he felt sorry at beholding her depressed, and like a sick beast in confinement.

"Lola," he said, taking a chair near her, "I have come as your friend."

"Not in anger--ah, but yes, in anger."

"I am not angry. I am very sorry."

"Ah, but in your eyes--they sparkle. I see Mees Vards. I do try to steal the church books. You are furiously enraged."

"Look at me and see."

But Lola would not, so George took her chin and made her gaze directly into his eyes. Lola's were filled with tears, but after a time she began to smile. "Ah, you are not enraged, it was for you I did it. I wish my dear George to myself--all--all."

"You know that is impossible."

"But it is not. I will have you."

"Not at all," said George, deliberately. "You will marry Bawdsey."

"That pig--cow, horrible and miserable. Non. Ah, non!" She sprang to her feet. "Jamais. Ah grand jamais! I do swear," and producing a small black crucifix from her dress she kissed it vehemently.

She was a most impossible person to deal with, being as wild as a tigress and as impulsive as a child. George made her resume her seat, and drew his chair close to her. Much delighted, Lola took his hand within her own and looked at him affectionately. Brendon did not like the position at all, but it was necessary to humor Lola if he wished to arrive at the truth. He spoke to her very directly.

"Now, Lola, I wish you to tell me the truth."

"Ah, but I will. When you are kindness I tell you all."

"Do you know that you have done a wrong thing?"

"Pschutt," she said contemptuously. "I give that old mans knocks on the heads, but he is alive. Oh, yes, I did not kill him.

"I don't mean the assault, though that is bad enough. But your trying to destroy the register of the marriage.

"It is your fault," cried Lola, impetuously. "For loves of my George I did so. I wish you not to marry any but me."

"We can talk of that later, Lola. Answer me a few questions, and make no remarks."

"I will do what you say, my friend," said Lola, nodding. George thought for a moment. "How did you learn that Wargrove was the place where my parents were married?"

"I tell not that--indeed, I will not. It is my businesses."

"Mine also. You must tell."

"But I will not."

"For my sake, Lola."

"Ah, you want to know all, and then trick me. I will not tell."

"Then I will explain to you."

"Aha, you cannots--you know nothings at all. Pah! La, la, la, la."

George spoke sternly. "Lola, I know more than you give me credit for. I have seen the dagger."

This time he struck home, for she started. "What dagger?"

"The stiletto you left in Mrs. Jersey's room."

"I did nothings. I was not there."

"Yes you were. For all I know you may have killed the woman."

"But it is foolish you talk, Geo............