After that interview with Frisco, Dr. Jim took Stephen straight off to Saxham. There was nothing left for him to do in Town. Frisco was in prison and safe enough. Joyce shut himself up in his flat, and would not even reply to the note Herrick wrote him. Belcher--for obvious reasons had not called at the Guelph Hotel,--and with his partner was keeping out of the doctor's way. Jim saw Frith for a brief few minutes, instructed him to see after the defence of Frisco, and then drove to Paddington where Marsh-Carr awaited him. By favour of the guard and five shillings they secured a smoking carriage to themselves. When the train was fairly out of the town, and whizzed through a desolate winter country, Dr. Herrick looked at Stephen.

"What do you think of it all?" he asked lighting his pipe.

"This story of Frisco's?"

"Yes. It's a living truth. I can see by your face that you wish to believe the man a liar. He is, but not in this instance. What he says is absolutely true. I saw his eyes when he spoke. The tongue may lie, but a man's eyes--" Jim shook his head.

"But it can't be true," cried Stephen looking white and worried, "good heaven's Jim, if Sidney really shot Carr, think of the disgrace to Ida and Bess. Ourselves! I don't mind that. But these poor girls."

"Well," said Jim after a pause, "you see it's not so bad as it might be. I am sure you must know of the estimation Sidney is held in, round about Saxham. If it comes out that he shot the Colonel, no one will express any surprise. It's no slur on the girls, Steve. Sidney is looked upon as something beyond the pale of humanity."

"What will they do with him?" asked Stephen anxiously.

"If he really did commit the crime, he will be placed in an asylum. The boy is too queer to be judged by ordinary standards. Frisco cleared out although he knew Sidney had killed Carr, because he thought no one would believe the boy had done it. The suspicion certainly would have rested on Frisco. He would have been wiser to have given himself up. But for the reasons I told you of--the same reasons that kept him quiet under the Colonel's unjust appropriation of his property---Frisco preferred to cut. He is wiser, now that he has had time to reflect over the matter. His devilries in the Americas were done under other names, and as Joyce he will not be wanted in San Francisco. I daresay if he had not been caught he would have given himself up in the long run. It was the Don he was afraid of. Now the Don is away, Frisco is convinced he will be set free."

"He must stand his trial?"

"Certainly. I have told Frith to see after him. But his defence will be that Sidney killed the man. There is no way of averting that. The question in my mind," said Herrick looking at Marsh-Carr "is, whether the boy really did do so."

"Have you any doubt on the subject?" asked Stephen eagerly. "I have a great many doubts," replied Jim dryly, "and until the person who really murdered Carr confesses, I shall continue to doubt. You see Steve, ever since I took up this matter I have been following up false trails. Every person I have stumbled upon, and to whose guilt the evidence at the time procurable, pointed, has laid the blame on some one else, who in turn has passed on the guilt to another party. I suspected Joyce. He accused Santiago. The Don said Pentland Corn was guilty. Corn declared that Mrs. Marsh had fired the shot. Now we know from accurate evidence that all these persons are innocent. Frisco was suspected from the very first. He is caught and swears--truly enough according to his own belief, that the boy murdered the Colonel. How do I know but what Sidney may be able to prove his innocence, and accuse someone else. The chain may go on endlessly so far as I can see."

"I understand the difficulty," replied Stephen wearily, "but I cannot for the life of me see why Sidney should kill the man."

"There comes in the queer character of the boy," said Herrick "he detested the Colonel--said he was a bad man. He might have got into his head in some way or another that such a man was better out of the world. If so, he would make no more account of killing Carr than he would of putting a fly out of existence. Indeed he would rather spare the fly, for I have noticed that he is tender to all that breathes."

"But would he keep quiet over the matter?"

"I think so. Sidney was never the boy to talk. Then there is the pistol Stephen. That is an old-fashioned weapon that a boy might buy in Beorminster for a few pence, or he might have found it in the lumber room of the Grange--there are many of these ancient firearms to be found in the houses of old families. If Sidney dropped across such a weapon he might have then concluded to kill Carr. You see, from the account of Frisco, that he came down the Tower stairs and said, quite calmly, that the Colonel was dead. He may just as calmly admit to me or to you that he killed the man."

"Mad! Mad!" groaned Marsh-Carr, "he must be mad."

"No. That does not follow. The boy is strange. There are things about him which I cannot explain. So far as I can see Sidney does not come within the range of science. That foretelling of your mother's death, and his extraordinary statement that you were in danger, puzzled me beyond words. I must believe, because I am convinced by the evidence of my own senses. All the same I cannot explain or understand. There are laws of Nature with which we are unacquainted. I believe that this boy comes under some unknown laws. You cannot account for the actions of such a person. The boy would do things which we should call wrong, yet he would see no harm in doing them. If he is guilty, he will be put away in an asylum. At the same time I am sure he is perfectly sane."

"I am puzzled myself about him," admitted Stephen, "and he is a most uncomfortable boy to have about one. Still I have always found him upright and honourable. I have never known him to tell a lie. But he must know all about this case and how Frisco has been accused."

"I'm not so sure of that. Sidney lives with his head in the clouds. He perhaps has heard that Frisco has been accused, but, as the man does not now come across his path, he never thinks of any possible danger to him. Again Stephen, that silver bullet is queer."

"How do you mean queer?"

"Well you know the medi?val superstition that a warlock can be killed only by a silver bullet. A thing of that sort, is exactly what would appeal to the dreamy nature of Sidney. He is something of a mystic himself remember. He might have taken it into his head, that Carr was a warlock who had dealings with the devil"--

"I am sure he would have every reason to think so," said Marsh-Carr, "if any man was hand in glove with Satan, my uncle was that man."

"You see what you say yourself. Then Sidney thinking in a less sane fashion on the same subject might have considered it his duty to deliver the world from such a wizard. He would certainly then use a silver bullet, thinking (according to the medi?val superstition) that the man could not be killed by ordinary lead."

"It's all theory," said Stephen gloomily, "and fantastic at that."

"As you say--all theory and fantastic," admitted Herrick, "but you must remember that we are dealing with a fantastic nature. But we must see this boy and question him when we get home."

"He will deny everything."

"On the contrary if I know anything of the boy, he will calmly admit what he has done."

"You will not tell Bess or Ida?"

"That would be unwise. We must be certain of Sidney first. We shall say nothing to-night, but get Sidney to come over to 'The Pines' on the morrow and ask him frankly if he killed Carr."

"Bess is sure to ask you about Frisco," said Stephen.

"Oh, I can baffle her curiosity," replied Herrick. "I shall tell her nothing about my visit to the man. All about his arrest she can know."

"I think it will be better to hold our tongues altogether Jim. Ida is getting worried by this incessant mystery, although she knows very little."

"I'm sure I don't wonder. I'm worried myself. However, we must learn what we can from Sidney. I hope to Heaven the lad is innocent, but if he is not, I don't look upon him in the light of an ordinary criminal. He is a freak of nature. Were I put into the witness-box I could not say on my oath that he is mad."

"Let us drop the subject," said Stephen who looked haggard, "I am getting nervous and anxious."

Jim acquiesced in this sensible view and the two betook themselves to the magazines and newspapers. Until they arrived at Beorminster, they said little to one another, and even then were--for them--taciturn. A groom and cart awaited them, and they drove to Saxham in silence. It did not do to talk of Sidney with a servant at their elbows. But curiously enough the groom had news for Stephen, which brought in the name of Sidney.

"Please sir, that Italian woman----"

"What's the matter with her?" asked Herrick who was driving.

"She is very ill sir, and it is said she will die."

"Die!" echoed Stephen in surprise.

"She was not bad enough for that when I saw her last. What do you think Herrick?"

"She looked very sick certainly, but so far as I can judge was in no immediate danger of death. Who says this Parry?"

The groom sunk his voice to a whisper, and seemed nervous, "Master Sidney," he said.

Both men looked round at this. Then at each other. Herrick was the first to break the silence. "When did Master Sidney say that Parry?"

"Yesterday sir. Mr. Napper, he met him in Beorminster in the Cathedral Square about four o'clock. He asked him joking-like where he was going. Master Sidney said, just as quiet as he does speak sir, that he was going to see the Italian woman die. Napper was that taken aback you could have knocked him down with a feather sir. Then Master Sidney said she would die in two days, which I take to mean sir, that she'll go off to-morrow. And I'm sure she will sir," added Parry with conviction.

"Is this story known Parry?" asked his master rather vexed.

"No sir. Napper went at once to see Miss Endicotte when he came back to Saxham. She asked him to say nothing about it, but he had already told Phelps the gardener sir. Then Phelps told us all sir, but we have said nothing outside about it."

"See you don't then," said Stephen sharply, "the first of my servants who says a word will be discharged, mind that Parry."

The groom touched his hat and relapsed into silence. "Where is Master Sidney now Parry?" asked Herrick after a pause.

"At the house in Beorminster sir. He has been there all night. Miss Endicotte went over, but she could not get him away. He says he must stay there until the Italian woman dies sir."

"Humph! You need say no more Parry," and the doctor drove on in silence. But Marsh-Carr knew from the way he urged the mare, how perturbed he was over this information. Stephen was upset himself. There was something disquieting about everything in connection with Sidney.

After dinner at "The Pines," Herrick made Stephen lie down, as he was yet far from strong, and walked across to Biffstead. Here he saw the two girls and Frank, who were very much troubled by this latest freak of their brother.

"I don't know what to do with him," said Frank, "I went over and insisted he should come home. I took him by the shoulder to force him out of the house, but he got in such a passion that I thought he would have a fit. So I left him until you came back."

"You go over and get him away Jim," implored Ida, "you have more influence over him than anyone else. I have gone and Bess also, but he will not come. We can't carry him back by main force and make a scandal."

............