Whether it was the charm of the girl's society based upon his new discovery, or the interest of the conversation from a detective's point of view, that detained Herrick with her for over two hours, it is impossible to say. Probably Dr. Jim could not have given a satisfactory answer himself. But as he hurried along the road to the Carr Arms he acknowledged that he had been dilatory, for in two hours Robin could have got away from Saxham. But Dr. Jim did not think he would go. Robin was a child in many ways, and was not quick in making plans. Besides, he would be bewildered by the sudden revelation of his rascality and for the moment he would not be able to think of his own safety. Or at least if he did think, he would be unable to make any plans. Also--and of this Herrick was certain--he had very little money to come and go on.

"No," thought the doctor, as he swung into the village green, "Robin knows better than to give me the slip. He would be afraid that I would show him no mercy when I caught him up. Probably he will make out some story and implore me for the sake of our past friendship to be silent. If he tells me the whole truth and if he did not actually kill Carr, I might--but then he insulted Bess, and tried to get her into danger." The doctor clenched his fist and frowned. "I'll give him a thrashing at all events. There is a bad time coming for you Robin my man."

The prognostications of Dr. Jim proved to be correct. Joyce had not attempted flight. He was waiting in his sitting-room for the coming of the doctor, and he looked horribly frightened. Herrick could have found it in his heart to be sorry for the wretched little creature with his white haggard face and staring eyes; but he remembered what was at stake, and made up his mind to be stern even to the verge of brutality. For all he knew this treacherous little scoundrel might have hinted to the outside world that Bess was involved in the murder of Carr. If he had done this, Herrick considered that nothing would be too bad for him. It was in a very stern frame of mind that Dr. Jim sat down opposite his former friend. Robin winced at the regard of those once kind eyes. He felt like a rabbit in the presence of a boa-constrictor. "Well!" said Jim grimly eying the miserable wretch, "and what have you to say for yourself?"

"Nothing!" returned Robin sullenly. "I am afraid I shall not be satisfied with that Joyce. You will have to tell me the whole of your doings, from first to last."

"I have done nothing so very wrong Jim--"

"One moment," interposed Herrick, "I think you had better call me by my last name. We are not friends now you know."

"Will, I call you Dr. Herrick," said Robin with a small sneer.

"I think it might be better--sir," drawled Herrick, and the contempt in his tone made the self-satisfied Joyce wince.

"If I had done anything wrong I should not have waited to see you."

"That's a lie," replied the plain-spoken Jim. "You know me better than that. Had you bolted I should have had the police on your track before night-fall. You know me, as I said before. Your only chance is to make a clean breast of this damnable business."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't bandy words with me Joyce. It won't do. You are in a cleft stick and no amount of wriggling will serve you. If you want a lead here is one. You told me at Southberry that you went up up see Frith and Frith."

"So I did.--"

"Oh, Lord!" cried Herrick in a tone of disgust "will you never be done with your petty falsehoods. I know that you have not seen the solicitors for some months--certainly not on the twenty-fourth of July. Frith told me how you tried to get your mother's annuity transferred to yourself. Come now! Don't play the fool with me. You did not sleep at the Hull hotel?"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I went there. And I know also that you alighted from the seven train at Heathcroft station, and rode on your bicycle to Saxham--'I don't know for what purpose, unless it was to kill the Colonel."

"No! No!" this time Joyce was really afraid. "I did not kill him!"

"That remains to be proved. What about that pistol you slipped into the drawer of Bess Endicotte's writing-table--now, you are about to lie again! It won't do;---it won't do. The truth, you rat of a man."

"Don't call names," muttered Joyce weakly.

"I beg your pardon. I will not call you any more names. Let us conduct this conversation calmly. But you have to tell me the whole truth, or---"

"Well," said Joyce defiantly, "and if I refuse? What then."

"I will hand you over to the Beorminster police."

"You have no evidence--"

"I have more than you think of. You ass," said Herrick in a cold rage, "for the sake of our past friendship I have been sparing you all these weeks. I got you down here in the hope that you would be man enough to come forward and confess your follies. I do not say crimes, for you have not pluck enough to commit the smallest. But you kept your own counsel, and thought you were pulling wool over my eyes. I have seen through all these weeks. And now you insult the woman I love, and--"

Robin jumped up in a childish rage. "You don't love her--you won't marry her," he panted. "I won't have it!"

"Sit down," commanded Herrick sternly, "you have nothing to say in the matter. Leave Miss Endicotte's name out of it. We have had enough of this nonsense. Confess what you have done."

"I won't," Joyce set his teeth.

"Very good. Then I shall send for the police."

"You dare not."

"Ah! You think so." Herrick rose and walked towards the bell. Joyce anticipated him and stood in his path with flashing eyes. Herrick laughed. "Are you about to measure your strength against mine?" he said.

Before he could speak further the little man had flung himself at his throat like a wild beast. Strong as Herrick was, the abnormal nerve force of Joyce made him no mean antagonist. But the contest was unequal, and at last Herrick lifted Joyce above his head, shook him' as a terrier does a rat, and pitched him headlong into a chair, where the creature, helpless, and overborne, sat gnashing his teeth and glaring. For the moment Herrick thought he was mad. "Have you had enough?" asked the doctor recovering his breath, "if not I am quite willing to administer the thrashing you so richly deserve."

Joyce still glared and stamped in impotent rage. Then he suddenly burst into tears and hid his face in his hands. "You great brute," he wailed, "you might spare me!"

"Spare you!" echoed Herrick contemptuously, "and did you think of sparing that poor girl, whom you were trying to blackmail into marriage! You may thank your stars Joyce that you have to deal with a man who knows you as I do. If it had been another man, they would have left you half dead on the floor. You shall have justice from me, never fear."

Robin still continued to sob, and huddled up in the big chair looked scarcely as large as a child. "I feel ill--ill--horribly ill."

"You'll feel much worse before I've done with you," said the relentless Herrick, "sit up and talk rationally. All this won't do with me. You have tried all your tricks, they are of no avail. Here are pen ink and paper. I intend to take down all you say, and you will sign the statement."

"I'll see you to the devil first," cried Joyce sitting up tear-stained and dishevelled but with an evil look in his eyes.

"You will do exactly as you are bid," replied Herrick selecting a pen, "now begin, and tell no lies. I have information of which you know nothing, and if I catch you tripping--well you know what to expect."

Joyce saw that he was helpless. He had tried defiance, force, tears, and was now at the end of his resources. Herrick pitilessly held to his point. Seeing that there was no help for it, the little scamp dried his eyes, arranged his coat and hardened himself into a reasonable frame of mind. "You have the whip hand," he said sullenly, "so I must give in."

"I think that is very wise of you. After all you might have known that such play-acting would not impose upon me. Now you are to tell me all you did at Saxham on that night and why you came down. I shall probably ask you a few questions to which I shall require truthful answers. And remember what I said. I know more about your doings than you give me credit for. I can tell if you speak the truth or not. Now go on."

Dr. Jim squared his elbows and settled himself to write. Joyce cast one look at the door as though he meditated flight. But he knew that such a dash for liberty would result in his incarceration in prison so he abandoned it and sullenly began to talk.

"I did come down to Saxham on the twenty-fourth," he confessed.

"I thought so. And your story of seeing Frith and Frith was a lie."

"Yes! I did not want you to know."

"Not only that, but you wished to make use of me. I was to prove your alibi, Eh? You chose this country for our walking tour on purpose?"

"I planned the whole thing," said Joyce shamelessly and with something of pleasure in his own cleverness. "You think yourself clever Herrick, but I, whom you have always despised, have made a tool of you."

"Up to a point you have no doubt. But there is a proverb about playing with edged tools, you seem to have forgotten. As to your saying that I despise you I never did so, until I found out--never mind how--that you had told me a lie about going to London from Southberry."

"It was my own business."

"And I was to be your tool, as you have just said. Go on."

Joyce thought for a moment. "As I have done nothing so very wrong," he said, "there is no reason why I should not tell you everything from the beginning. I suppose you will admit that."

"No reason at all. Go on."

"Very good. Well then until my mother died I had no idea of her position--nor," added Joyce, "have I any very clear idea now. She left a paper behind her which explained much, but not all. I will show it to you when you come up to London."

"Thank you; I will remind you of that promise."

Robin scowled and continued. "My mother said that between a certain Colonel Carr and herself there existed a business arrangement that she should receive five hundred a year for her life. The arrangement was made by my dead father for services rendered to Colonel Carr."

"What were those services?"

"That is one of the things I do not know. The paper said nothing about them. The five hundred a year was to be paid to my mother and when she died it was to stop. So you see that in place of having an income as I thought I was left a pauper. My mother had saved some money--about three hundred pounds. I am living on that now. I was in despair, and I went to the solicitors who pay the annuity to ask if Colonel Carr would continue it. They wrote to the Colonel and he refused.

"I know that," said Herrick smoothly, "Frith told me."

"You seem to have meddled a good deal in my business," sneered Joyce. "Well, I was again in despair, as I saw nothing before me but a life of hard work. I read over the paper again. My mother said in it that Carr was a dangerous man, but that he had enemies, who threatened to kill him. She advised me to see him, but to take all precautions against my visit being known to anyone.

"Why?" asked Dr. Jim, "I see no reason."

"Nor did I," responded Robin with a shrug; he was now quite himself again and seemed to enjoy the telling of the story. "She hinted however that if Colonel Carr ever died by violence--and she was sure he would--I might b............