"Well, I never!" gasped the widow, who, womanlike, was the first to find her tongue. "Is it really you, Billy?--but I might have guessed it, from your writing. Yet it never entered my head!" She stopped and grew suddenly furious. "My husband, you wretch!--have you killed him?"

"No, Clara Maria, no! I came here to give information about his poor body. I did not expect to find my sister--the celebrated Miss de Crespigny--in the person of Mrs. Warrender!"

"What is all this about?" demanded Alan quietly. "Is this your brother, Mrs. Warrender?"

"To my shame, sir, I confess this--this creature"--Mrs. Warrender brought out the word with a hiss--"this degraded beast, is my brother."

"Oh, Clara Maria, how can you----"

"Hold your tongue!" interrupted the lady angrily. "You were always a drunkard and a scoundrel! Now you've come to blackmailing! Two hundred pounds from me, you wretch! Not one sixpence!"

"I have already," said her brother majestically, "arranged pecuniary matters with my friend Mr. Thorold. But I wonder at you, Clara Maria, I really do, considering how we parted. Is this the greeting of flesh and blood?" cried Mr. Gramp in a soaring voice, and standing on tiptoe. "Is this what human nature is made of? The late Sir Isaac Newton was a prophet indeed when he made that remark."

"Mountebank!" hissed Mrs. Warrender, curling her handsome lip.

"We were both mountebanks at one time, Mr. Thorold," he said, turning to Alan, who, in spite of his anxiety, was watching the scene with unconcealed amusement. "My sister was the celebrated Miss de Crespigny; I, the once noted actor, Vavasour Belgrave----"

"And his real name is Billy Spinks!" put in Mrs. Warrender scornfully.

"William Spinks," corrected Mr. Gramp, as it may be convenient to call him. "Billy is merely an endearing term to which, alas! your lips have long been strangers. But you needn't talk," said Cicero, becoming angry, and therewith a trifle vulgar; "your name is Clara Maria Spinks!"

"And a very good name, too," retorted the lady. "Cut the scene short, Billy."

"That is my advice also," put in Alan, who was growing weary. "I do not want to know any more about your relationship. That you are brother and sister is nothing to me."

"I hope, Mr. Thorold, that you won't reveal my degraded connection in Heathton," cried Mrs. Warrender, much agitated. "It would ruin me. With great difficulty I attained a position by marrying my poor dear Julian, and I don't want to fall back into the mud where this worm writhes." She darted a vicious glance at Cicero.

"Be content, Mrs. Warrender; your secret is safe with me."

"Denying her own flesh and blood!" moaned Gramp, and sat down.

Speech and attitude were most effective, and Mrs. Warrender, with a spark of her old theatrical humor, played back.

"Yes, I deny you," she cried, rising quickly and stretching out a denunciatory hand. "You were always a brute and a disgrace to me. Look at that creature, Mr. Thorold! He is my brother. Our parents were on the stage--barnstormers they were--and played in the provinces for bite and sup. They put us on the stage, and when thy died, left a little money to Billy there. He was to bring me up. How did he fulfil his trust? By making me work for him. As an actor, even in the meanest parts, he was a failure. I am not much of an actress myself, although I was well known as Miss de Crespigny, and billed all over London. It was my figure and my looks that did it. I appeared in burlesque ten or twelve years ago, and I had wealth at my feet."

"I have heard of you," said Alan, recalling his college days and certain photographs of the most beautiful burlesque actress in London. He wondered he had not recognized her long before. Mrs. Warrender, shaking with passion, went on as though she had not heard him.

"Wealth was at my feet," went on the widow--"wealth and dishonor. He," she cried, and pointed the finger of scorn at the unabashed Cicero, "he lived on me! He would have me stoop to dishonor for his sake! Then I lost my voice. The creature treated me basely. I left him; I ran away to the States of America, and appeared in ballets for my looks alone. In New Orleans I met Julian Warrender--he was old, but he was madly in love with me--and I married him for a home. We came to England five years ago, and settled at Heathton. I always did my best to be a good wife, although I dare say I was extravagant. Diamonds! yes, I have diamonds, and I made Julian buy me all he could. And why?--to provide against the days of poverty which I knew would come. They have come--my husband is dead. God help me!" Her voice rose to a scream. "Murdered!" she cried.

"This," interpolated Gramp, addressing no one in particular, "is very painful."

"You beast! Why do you come into my life again? I wanted to know about my poor husband's death, and I brought up my jewels to bribe the man who called himself Cicero Gramp into confessing who had murdered him. I find that my own brother is the blackmailer. You would extort money from me, you wretch! Never! never! never! I disown you--I cast you out! William Spinks, blackguard you were! Cicero Gramp, scoundrel, thief, blackmailer, and, for all I know, murderer, you are! Away with you--away!" and Mrs. Warrender, very white in face and very exhausted in body, sat down.

"Very good," said her brother, rising; "I go."

"Without your fifty pounds?" asked Alan, sneering.

"I forgot that," he said, smiling blandly.

"Don't give him a penny, Mr. Thorold!" cried the woman with vehemence.

"I promised him the money, and he shall have it," replied Alan coldly. "I have heard your story, Mrs. Warrender, and it is safe with me. No one in Heathton shall know. Your brother will not speak of it either."

"How do you know that?" asked Cicero, with an evil look.

"Because you shall not have the fifty pounds until I have your promise to hold your tongue about your relationship to Mrs. Warrender while you are in Heathton."

"I am not going to Heathton," growled Gramp like a sulky bear.

"Yes, you are. You are coming to tell your story to Inspector Blair. If you don't, not only will you lose your fifty pounds, but I will have you arrested as a suspicious character."

"You promised that the police should not touch me."

"I promised nothing of the sort. Now, tell me what you saw of these crimes--for there are two: sacrilege and murder--and then come to Heathton. Behave well, keep Mrs. Warrender's secret, and you shall have fifty pounds and your freedom. Otherwise----" Alan held up his finger.

"Oh, Mr. Thorold!" cried the widow, wringing her hands, "if this horrible man comes to Heathton, I am lost!"

"Indeed no! He will hold his tongue. Won't you?"

"You seem very sure of it," said the professor of eloquence.

"Of course I am. You see, Mr. Gramp, I have the handling of the late Mr. Marlow's money, and I can buy your silence."

"Not for fifty pounds."

"We shall see about that. It's either fifty pounds or the police. Choose!"

Cicero folded his arms, and bowed his head.

"I will take the............