The next day Dora excused her absence to Joad on the plea of a visit to a friend living the other side of Canterbury, and stated furthermore that she would not return until late that evening. It was absolutely necessary to make some such statement, as she knew not what conclusion would be by the old man did he learn that her true destination was London. She suspected him of knowing more of Lady Burville than he chose to confess; and, with such knowledge, he might guess her intention. If so, it might be that he would warn Lady Burville, did he know her address, which was by no means unlikely; therefore Dora was resolved to keep him in ignorance of her plan. To blind Joad was no easy task, as he was artful, dangerous, and--she more than suspected--merciless.  
To all suspicion, she rode to Selling on her bicycle, and there caught the early train to London. Resolved on economy, she purchased a third-class ticket, and had just time to stumble into a carriage before the train started. Then she became aware that she had but one companion in the compartment--a man. He turned his head as the train began to move, and she saw with and some that it was Mr. Pride. "Never mind," she thought, returning his greeting with a stiff nod; "he can tell Joad on his return if he pleases. It will then be too late for the old man to do anything, as I shall have seen Lady Burville."
 
Like Joad, this man was another protégé of Edermont's, who had for him a small post in a private school at Chillum. Pride was not unlike his late patron, being short and insignificant-looking, with a white beard, hardly so luxuriant as that of Edermont, and silvery-white hair. In the distance the resemblance was striking, but a closer showed the difference between the two men, as Pride was plump and , with mild eyes and a good-natured smile. He rubbed one fat hand over the over, and Miss Carew in his usual cheery fashion.
 
"I am glad to see you looking so well, Miss Carew," he said brightly. "You go to London?"
 
"Only for the day, Mr. Pride," replied Dora coldly.
 
"Ah! no doubt you wish to get away from those pests who round the Red House in the hope of gaining a fortune."
 
"Those amateur detectives?" said Dora quietly; "do you think they will discover the truth?"
 
"Who knows?" was Pride's reply; "they will do their best to do so. Fifty thousand pounds is worth the earning."
 
Dora considered for a moment, then turned on him suddenly.
 
"You were at Canterbury on the night the murder was committed?"
 
"Till close on eleven," returned Pride easily; "then I walked back to Chillum."
 
"And you went into Mr. Joad's house?"
 
"I did. I was with him at one o'clock."
 
"Did you meet anyone on a bicycle as you walked to Chillum from Canterbury?"
 
"Why," replied the schoolmaster after a moment's pause, "I met two people, and each rode a bicycle. One, a man, was riding towards Chillum; the other, a woman, was making for Canterbury."
 
"Did you know who they were?"
 
"I, my dear Miss Carew!" said Pride in great surprise--"why, no. I took no particular notice of them, in the first place; and in the second, they flitted along so swiftly and noiselessly that I was hardly aware of their passing."
 
"I suppose you have no clue to the assassin?" said Dora .
 
"No. If I had, I should not to earn the fortune."
 
"Can you the for the crime, Mr. Pride?"
 
"I--am--afraid--not," said Pride slowly. "I knew Mr. Edermont well; but there was nothing in his past life likely to endanger his safety."
 
"He thought otherwise. Mr. Edermont was always haunted by the of a violent death."
 
"I knew that, Miss Carew. Monomania, my dear lady--monomania."
 
"It could not be monomania if it came true," said Dora impetuously.
 
"Why not?" replied Pride in an argumentative tone. "Monomania is the on one particular idea until it fills the thoughts and life of the thinker. Mr. Edermont may have had reason to suppose that his life was in danger; but the original cause may have passed away. Nevertheless, the habit may have continued; and so," added Pride with a , "we may reasonably ascribe our friend's death to a creature of his imagination."
 
"Your argument is weak," replied Dora spiritedly. "Mr. Edermont believed that he would die a violent death, and what he believed came to pass. That does away with all your ."
 
"But, Miss Carew, the cause of his fear was done away with before your died."
 
"How do you know that?"
 
"Joad told me. We were discussing the possibility of the existence of this unknown enemy whom Mr. Edermont feared; and Joad mentioned that Mr. Pallant had set that fear at rest."
 
"Do you mean to say that Mr. Pallant told him his enemy was dead?"
 
"Joad thought that such was the case."
 
"Then you must see," cried Dora , "that such a supposition does away with your theory of monomania. Evidently Mr. Edermont's fear was founded on no fancy, but on fact."
 
"Well, I will agree with you for the sake of argument;" said Pride hastily; "but granted that all you say is true, it brings us no nearer the solution of the mystery. Admitting that the enemy whom Mr. Edermont feared really existed: if such enemy died, as we suppose Mr. Pallant told our poor friend, who killed him, and verified his lifelong prediction that he would come to a violent end?"
 
"I understand your meaning," was Dora's reply; "but I do not think all the talking in the world will aid us to discover the actual assassin. What is your belief, Mr. Pride?"
 
"I cannot say that I have any particular belief, Miss Carew. These criminal problems are too intricate for me."
 
"Don't you wish to earn the reward?"
 
"I should not mind doing so," replied Pride, with a good-natured laugh. "No man in his senses would lose the chance of gaining fifty thousand pounds. All the same, I am not clever enough to win it. I do not see where to begin."
 
"Do you think that the manuscript ............