When Pallant made this statement he looked up sharply to see how Dora was by it. Her face had flushed hotly, and her eyes had brightened. In place of sorrow, her whole expression was that of relief and gladness. Pallant could not forbear a remark on her want of feeling.  
"You do not seem sorry to hear that your father is dead, Miss Carew."
 
"I do not know why I should display a sorrow which I do not feel," she replied quietly. "You must remember, Mr. Pallant, that my parents are nothing to me. I was taken away from them when I was a year old, and I have no feeling of love towards them. I am glad that my father is dead."
 
"May I ask why?"
 
"Because, had he lived, he might have been guilty of murder. At least, I am spared the of having a criminal for a parent."
 
Pallant , and seemed about to speak. However, he thought better of it, and merely turned away his face to hide a smile. Dora took little notice of his action, being absorbed in her own thoughts.
 
"Is this what you told Mr. Edermont in the conversation you had with him?"
 
"Yes. I was sorry for the little creature. The thought of Carew roaming the earth in search of him was his constant nightmare. It did not matter to me whether he knew or not. Certainly, it did not affect my plans, so--I never useless cruelty, Miss Carew--I told him the truth: that his lifelong enemy was dead and buried; that henceforward he could sleep in safety."
 
"The result proved your assertions to be false."
 
"What is that to me?" said Pallant with a . "I am no prophet, to the day and hour of a man's death. I said that Carew was past harming him. That was true. Carew did not kill him."
 
"Then who did?"
 
"My dear young lady, if I could tell you that I should be the richer by fifty thousand pounds; but on that point I am as ignorant as you are. I held your father in my arms when he died; I saw him buried. It was not Carew who killed Dargill, Edermont, and there is nothing in the story told to me by your father likely to throw light on the mystery."
 
"You--you do not think my mother killed him?" Dora.
 
Pallant at the idea.
 
"Could those little hands a heavy club? Could those weak muscles deliver so terrible a blow? No, Miss Carew; your mother is too weak, too--if I dare say so--cowardly, to do such a thing. She is as innocent of this death as your father. Dargill's fate is not due to the of the past."
 
"It must be due to something of the sort, Mr. Pallant. No one had any interest in so harmless a man."
 
"No one in this neighbourhood, you mean."
 
"Yes; I have lived here all my life, and I know everything about my . He had few friends, and lived quietly among his books and flowers. Beyond his constant fear lest my father should find him out, I never saw him in any way. And in some things Mr. Edermont was as as a child. If he had been threatened by any person about here, I should have known of it."
 
"Then you think his death must be due to what took place twenty years ago?"
 
"Don't you think so yourself, Mr. Pallant?"
 
"No, Miss Carew, I do not," replied the red-haired man quietly. "If your father had lived I might have held a different opinion. But, knowing the story of the past, you can see for yourself that, excepting Carew, no one had any or desire to kill Dargill."
 
"Then what is your own theory?" asked Dora, rather confounded by this argument.
 
"Burglary. Yes! Mr. Edermont was known to be rich; this house is in a lonely situation, and I dare say the burglar made himself acquainted with the of the . Two women and one old man--small against a sturdy . Jedd, of Canterbury, is also of my opinion. The burglar, or burglars, broke in, the desk, killed Edermont, who interrupted them, and then bolted. That is my theory, Miss Carew."
 
"I do not agree with you," replied Dora calmly; "you forget that nothing was taken out of the bureau but that manuscript containing the story of the past."
 
"How do you know that the manuscript was in the bureau?"
 
"Mr. Edermont said so in his will."
 
"Nevertheless, he might have changed its hiding-place," said Pallant coolly, "or my information that his enemy was dead might have induced him to burn it as useless. With the death of Carew ceased all necessity to keep that story in writing. And again, Miss Carew, how do you know but that money or jewels may have been hidden in the bureau?"
 
"It is possible, but not probable," replied Dora cautiously; "I don't think Mr. Edermont kept anything there save bills and letters. No doubt he preserved also the packet of letters you wished to obtain."
 
"And which he gave to Lady Burville," said Pallant. "Very possibly. I was at not getting those letters."
 
"What information did they contain?"
 
"Much that I know, and you don't," answered Pallant; "they related to you."
 
"To me!" cried Dora in surprise. "What about me?"
 
"Ah!" said Pallant grimly, "that is exactly what I wanted to find out. However, Lady Burville has them now, and she'll keep them."
 
He made this speech in a tone of such genuine regret that Dora saw he was in earnest. It was no use questioning him upon matters of which he was ignorant, so she changed the subject.
 
"You warned me once against Allen Scott," said she, after a pause. "Did that mean you believed him to be guilty?"
 
"No. At the time I made the remark Edermont was alive. Why I warned you was to make you give up the idea of marriage with him. I know from Lady Burville that Scott was here on the night the crime was committed; but for all that I do not believe him to be guilty."
 
"I am thankful to hear you say so, Mr. Pallant."
 
"You need not be," replied Pallant coldly. "If I thought Scott was guilty, I should have no in denouncing him. But I do not see what motive he had to commit so terrible a crime. He could not win you for a wife by doing so; he could not gain a fortune, and he would be running into danger without hope of reward. No; Allen Scott is innocent."
 
"I believe he is myself," said Dora emphatically; "but you know, Mr. Pallant, he refuses to tell me the secret which Mr. Edermont to him, and which............