Beatrice kept her word in spite of all Durban's protestation that her visit to Lady Watson would lead to trouble. Frank as the old servant had apparently been, Beatrice could not rid herself of the idea than even now he had not told everything. There was some mystery concerning Lady Watson which had a bearing on the other mysteries, and this she was determined to find out. Only by knowing everything would her mind be set at rest.

The girl was sufficiently unhappy in these days. The discovery of the evil by which she was surrounded made her recoil from everyone in terror. All people seemed to have skeletons in their various cupboards, and Beatrice dreaded the chance of becoming friendly with any one else who had a secret. Also, it was pain and anguish to her to stand aside, and know that Maud Orchard possessed Vivian. Of course Maud had returned to London, and Vivian--so he said--had heard nothing about her from the time she had fled with the Obi necklace. All the same this woman, wicked and lawless, was his wife, and, while she lived, Beatrice knew that Vivian could never be anything to her but a friend. Loving him as she did, and in spite of his manifold weaknesses, her heart ached as she thought of the long, dreary, desolate life that necessarily was before her when deprived, by a prior claim, of his society. But recent events had hardened the girl's character, and she grasped her nettle firmly. In other words, she made all arrangements to go to London and see Lady Watson, on the chance of obtaining work. So long as she could earn her living, nothing else seemed to matter. Beatrice felt very unhappy and lonely.

What she greatly desired was a confidant. Dinah, being a scatter-brain, and wrapped up in Jerry, was useless, while, owing to the changed circumstances, she could not feel easy in the company of Vivian. Durban, after the short interview she had with him in The Camp, had vanished; for when Beatrice went again to question him still further, she found the place deserted and locked up. Where Durban had gone she did not know, and, needing him as she did, her state of mind was one of wretchedness and foreboding. However, as she greatly desired advice and comfort, she induced Vivian to come to the lonely Camp, and there told him all that Durban had told her.

Vivian heard her in silence, and wondered at the queer story. Durban, he thought, was deeper implicated in the doings of the Black Patch Gang than he chose to acknowledge, and he said this to Beatrice after some thought. The girl vigorously refused to believe in the guilt of the man.

"Durban has always been my best friend, Vivian," she said, with a look of pain. "How can you accuse him, without evidence?"

"It seems to me that there is a great deal of evidence upon which to accuse him," said Paslow grimly. "He had the necklace, and the crime was committed for the sake of the necklace."

"No. It was a case of revenge. Alpenny evidently betrayed the Gang in some way, or took more than his fair share of the plunder, therefore he was sentenced to death; and you were used by Durban as the unconscious instrument to give him warning. You saw how terrified old Alpenny was, and how he muttered about the third time. Also, the note he wrote to me was a trick, to give him time to get away. He would have fled, but that he was killed."

"Had he fled," said Vivian judiciously, "or had he intended to fly, he would have taken his jewels with him. According to Major Ruck, he had a great many jewels."

"I saw some," replied Beatrice. "Well, perhaps he did make up a parcel of jewels, and these were stolen by the thief who killed him."

"No," insisted Vivian. "The necklace was left behind, or would have been. Had Alpenny intended to fly to the Continent with his plunder in order to escape death he certainly would have packed up the Obi necklace at once. As it was, he left it in its hiding-place, and Durban--as he says--found it there."

"How do you mean--as he says?" questioned Beatrice, struck by the peculiar tone in which Paslow uttered the words.

"I mean that Durban may be telling a lie. Alpenny may have got the necklace ready to go away. Durban, coming back, as he confessed to you he did, probably killed him, and stole the necklace."

"Nonsense!" said Beatrice quickly. "For what reason should he steal the necklace, and then hang it on the neck of a sheep?"

"Ah, that is Orchard's story. You told it to Durban, and he seized the idea. Orchard's daughter is connected with the Gang--my wife, that is," added Vivian, with a grimace, "so it is probable that Orchard also is a member. Probably Durban, after killing Alpenny, went up the Downs and gave the necklace to Orchard for safe keeping. No one would expect to find it in the possession of the old man. I think that Orchard was to have returned it to Durban, so that money could be made; only his daughter--my wife--saw it and wheedled it out of him for herself. But I don't think she'll keep it long if Major Ruck sees it."

"I don't agree with you at all," said Beatrice, defending Durban. "As Durban was supposed to be in town, he could have come back."

"Which he did, remember."

"Yes, but only to find Alpenny dead. Had he killed Alpenny for the sake of the necklace, he could have slipped it into his pocket and have gone away in safety. No, Vivian, I believe that Durban really believes that there is some spell attached to the necklace, and placed it on the neck of the sheep to prevent its doing further harm to anyone, especially to me. Had I found it, I certainly should have claimed it."

"Lady Watson would have claimed it."

"I know that, since she inherits all under the will. And that is one of the reasons why I go up to town to see her. I'll tell her all that we know, and she will get the necklace from your wife."

"That is if Major Ruck doesn't get it in the meantime," said Vivian coolly. "Maud is a clever woman, but she won't be able to get the better of Major Ruck. Let us have a look at the secret passage."

"We cannot open the door," objected Beatrice.

"Durban opened it with a beam when the body was found dead," said the young man, "and here is the beam left near the carriage all the time." He picked up the heavy log of wood, and poised it against the door. The lock, mended but lightly, gave way at once, and the two had little difficulty in entering.

"Here is the spring," explained Beatrice, and walked to the end of the carriage, followed closely by Vivian. In another minute the galvanised tin upon which the stove stood, slipped aside, and disclosed the damp steps. "Isn't it ingenious?" said she, admiringly.

"Very," assented Vivian. "Let us go down. Come on!"

"But a light. Oh"--she caught sight of a candle on the table--"here is one. You lead, Vivian."

With the lighted candle the pair went down into the unwholesome passage. It descended by means of the steps for some distance, and then there was a trend to the right. The passage was perfectly straight, and had been dug out of the soft earth. Part of it was roofed with brick, but the whole was much dilapidated, and showed signs of collapse. Vivian, seeing this, and fearing a fall of earth, wished the girl to return, but this she refused to do. "I want to see where it leads to," she said. "Go on, Vivian."

Thus urged, he cautiously felt his way by the feeble glimmer of the candle. In a shorter time than either expected, they came to a second flight of steps, and scrambled upward. The steps ended at a kind of trap-door. Vivian placed his shoulder beneath this, and with a vigorous push, forced it outward and upward. The next moment he had leaped lightly on to the surface of the earth, and found himself in the wood, just outside the walls of The Camp.

"Oh,&q............