When Dora made that last remark, the face of Mrs. Tice grew red and indignant. She looked at the girl with a eye, and demanded crossly what she meant by saying such a thing. Knowing the of the to Allen, this was natural enough.  
"The fact is," explained Dora, "Mr. Joad accuses Allen of murdering Mr. Edermont."
 
"And what next, I wonder!" cried Mrs. Tice in high dudgeon; "it is more likely Mr. Joad killed the man himself! Can he his ?"
 
"He can state that Allen was in this house on the night of the murder."
 
"That does not say Mr. Allen committed the crime," retorted Mrs. Tice, her face a shade paler. "Mr. Allen told me in confidence that he had seen the dead body, and had kept silent for his own sake. I quite agreed with him that it was the best thing to do. And he told you also, Miss Carew?"
 
"Yes, he told me also; but he did not inform Joad."
 
"Then how does Joad know that Mr. Allen was here on that night?"
 
"He saw him from the door of his cottage," said Dora quietly; "but you need not be afraid for Allen, Mrs. Tice. I can save him, and close Joad's mouth."
 
"But how, my dear?" asked the housekeeper, greatly .
 
"By becoming the wife of Mr. Joad."
 
"Mercy on me, Miss Carew! You would not do that!" exclaimed Mrs. Tice, lifting up her hands in horror.
 
"I won't do it unless I am forced to," said Dora gloomily. "But supposing Joad denounces Allen, how can he defend himself? I know that he is innocent; but his presence here on that night looks guilty."
 
"Appearances are against him, certainly. But if Mr. Allen is arrested, he will have to save his life by denouncing your father as the murderer."
 
"My father is not the murderer."
 
"I say that he is!" cried Mrs. Tice emphatically. "For twenty years George Carew has been hunting down Mr. Dargill--I suppose Lady Burville told you his real name?--and he caught him at last and killed him."
 
"You are wrong," said Dora, shaking her head. "I thought as you did before Mr. Pallant arrived. He undeceived me."
 
"What does Mr. Pallant know about it?"
 
"He knows everything. He met my father in San Francisco two years ago, and my father told him the whole story before he died."
 
"Died! Do you mean to say that George Carew is dead?"
 
"He is dead and buried."
 
"Captain Carew dead!" muttered Mrs. Tice in a bewildered tone; "dead--and without himself on the man who stole his wife! Then, who killed Mr. Dargill--or rather, Mr. Edermont?"
 
"I do not know. That is just what I wish to find out."
 
"No one else had any reason to kill him," said the housekeeper in dismay, "and yet he is dead--dead--murdered. You are right, my dear," she added in a firm tone; "this is a serious matter for Mr. Allen. Joad hates him so that he would willingly himself to see my dear boy hanged. But we must save him, you and I; we must save him, Miss Carew."
 
"To do so, we must understand one another," said Dora; "you must tell me all."
 
"I shall do so," cried Mrs. Tice energetically--"yes. Hitherto I have said nothing, out of consideration for your feelings. Now I shall tell you why Captain Carew--your father, my dear--hated Mr. Edermont so deeply. But first let me hear what your mother revealed. I may be able to relate those things which she kept hidden from you."
 
Thus to confess, Dora related the story of the past, as told to her by Lady Burville--she could not bear even to think of her as "mother." Mrs. Tice listened in severe silence, only nodding her head now and then at some special point in the story. When Dora concluded, she sat quiet for two minutes, then gravely delivered herself of her opinion.
 
"I see that you do not look upon this woman as a mother, my dear young lady," she said solemnly, "and you are right to do so. May I speak plainly?"
 
"As plainly as you like, Mrs. Tice. I have no filial feeling for the mother who me, and left her helpless child to be brought up by a stranger."
 
"Mr. Dargill was scarcely a stranger," corrected Mrs. Tice: "he was your mother's second husband, as she told you. Oh, heavens! you are quite right! Mrs. Carew, as I knew her, was always a light-headed, selfish woman, given over to vanity and pleasure. She cared only for money and idleness, and I'll be bound she was only too glad to get rid of you, so as to give herself a chance of a third marriage as an unencumbered widow. Yet what she came through would have sobered many a woman. But there, Mrs. Carew was always a feeble, coquette. She loved only one thing in the world then, and she loves only one thing now--herself."
 
"Was what she told me true?"
 
"Oh yes; the tale she told is true enough, but it is trimmed and cut to suit her own ends. She was ashamed to tell you everything, I suppose. A wicked woman she is, Miss Carew, for all that she is your mother. Owing to her coquetry and love of money, poor Mr. Dargill came to his end as surely as if she had killed him herself."
 
"We don't know that yet," said Dora thoughtfully. "Remember, it was not her first husband who killed him."
 
"That is true," Mrs. Tice. "Nevertheless, I can think of no other person who had an interest in your guardian's death. But I had best tell you my story, Miss Carew, and you can judge for yourself."
 
"Will your story enable me to discover the real murderer?"
 
"I don't say that," replied Mrs. Tice reluctantly; "as I said before, you must judge for yourself."
 
She took her spectacles off and laid them on the table; then, folding her hands on her lap, she began the version of that story which Lady Burville had told to Dora. The missing portion, supplied by the memory of the housekeeper, was by far the most exciting episode of the tale.
 
"The whole affair took place at Christchurch, in Hampshire," she said slowly; "you were right in your guess as to the locality, Miss Carew. I was born and brought up and married there, but twenty-five years ago my husband died, and to support myself I had to go out again to service. Dr. and Mrs. Scott took me in as a nurse to their newly-born child--Mr. Allen, that is. His mother died shortly after giving him birth, and his bringing up was left to me. Dr. Scott took little of the child. He was a handsome man, clever in his profession, but fond of going about the country to pleasure parties, and of with his lady patients. He was said to be deeply in love with Mrs. Carew."
 
"Was my father with her then?"
&............