Next morning there was a great sensation in the village of Marshely, as in some way the events of the previous night leaked out. Certainly, the accounts of these were more or less , and no one appeared to know who was responsible for them. But this much of the truth became public property, that Vand and the negro prince who had been stopping at "The Chequers" were dead, that Mrs. Vand had fled to escape arrest, and that the police were in possession of Bleacres. Later in the afternoon it became known that Vand had killed Captain Huxham for the sake of certain jewels.  
But the villagers were greatly astonished when they heard—from what source was not known—that another man had been killed. No one, save Silas Pence, had seen Edwin Lister enter the , and Pence himself had presumed, until informed, that the man was Cyril, so no one knew that any person was missing. Now it appeared that the man who was murdered by Vand had committed a crime himself previous to his own death. But what he had done with the body no one knew, and the police could find no traces of the same in spite of all their efforts.
 
Inglis called at Miss Anker's cottage in the morning and interviewed both Bella and her lover. From them he heard the whole tale, and was greatly astonished by the . Under the circumstances he was inclined to take the jewels into official , but Bella refused to give them up; and they were her property left to her by her father, Maxwell Faith. Inglis admitted this, so did not press the point.
 
Afterwards the inspector examined Silas Pence, and heard from him much the same story as he had told Bella. The preacher was lying on a bed of sickness, as the blow on his head and the many worries he had been through of late nearly gave him brain fever. Of course—and Inglis told him as much—he should have reported at once the death of Huxham, as he had seen the body. But as Pence had not the blow struck, the police could do nothing but . Silas stated that in one point of his story when he confessed to Bella he had been wrong, which was after seeing Edwin Lister enter the Manor—or, as he thought then, Cyril—he had rushed away in the direction of the common in the vain attempt to rid himself of troublesome thoughts. When he returned Mr. and Mrs. Vand were in the kitchen, as Luke proved; and Pence was thus enabled to enter the house. Undoubtedly the guilty pair had left the front door open, so that blame might be cast upon some outsider—on a possible burglar, for instance. When they heard the noise of Pence's flight and found the money gone, they were quite to place the blame on a robber. Mrs. Vand confessed this later, although at the time of the robbery she had not dreamed the burglar was the talented young preacher whom she so greatly admired.
 
But the guilty woman was missing for some days. On being made it appeared that the Romany girl, by Mrs. Vand to assist her flight, had made a cup of tea for the . As Dutton was wet and cold, he drank the tea only too willingly, never suspecting that it was drugged. But it turned out to be dosed with laudanum, and he fell into a deep sleep. Granny Tunks, as she stated on reviving, had attempted to stay the flight of Mrs. Vand and the Romany girl, but the latter had knocked her down with the very of wood with which Mrs. Tunks had struck the half-drowned woman. In this way Granny's sins came home to her.
 
Inglis found, on the detail of the motor-car being reported by Cyril, who had heard it from Mrs. Vand, that use had been made of the same. He advertised for such a car in such a neighbourhood, and speedily was called upon by a public , who drove for hire. The man confessed very that Vand had engaged his car to wait for himself and his wife on the high road to Pierside, and that thinking that nothing was wrong he had done so. Vand had paid him well, and the driver merely thought it was the eccentric of a rich man. Vand, it appeared, had engaged the car in London from the stand in Trafalgar Square. When Mrs. Vand left the hut the Romany girl had rowed her to the swamps in the boat she had brought for the removal of Luke to the , and the woman had then crossed the ground to the high road. Making some excuse for the non-appearance of her husband, she had been driven to London, and the driver, who had already received his money, dropped her in Piccadilly. That, as he confessed, was the last he saw of her.
 
Inspector Inglis was very angry with the man, and out that he should have suspected that the couple were flying from justice from the fact of the large sum of money paid, and on account of the strange place where it was arranged that the car should wait. But the man himself completely, and in the end he was permitted to go free, as the police could not do anything. And after all the chauffeur, who did not look particularly intelligent, might have acted in all good faith.
 
However the point was that Mrs. Vand, dropped in Piccadilly, had vanished . She had ample money, as it was proved that she had fifty pounds in gold from her bank, and although she had fled from the hut with only the dripping dress she wore, there would be no difficulty in her obtaining a fresh disguise. The police advertised in the papers and with handbills, but nothing could be heard of the woman. She had vanished as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed her.
 
Strangely enough, it was from Mrs. Vand's that the first news came of her doings. Timson was the lawyer's name, and he came down to Pierside to see Inspector Inglis. On being shown into the inspector's office he broke out abruptly—
 
"Sir," said Timson, who was a mild-faced, spectacled, yellow-haired man, "I have a communication to make to you about my respected client, Mrs. Rosamund Vand, if you will hear it."
 
"Respectable, eh?" questioned the officer ironically. "Perhaps you don't know, Mr.—Mr."—he referred to the card—"Mr. Timson, that your respectable client is wanted for her complicity in the murder of her brother?"
 
"Sir," said Mr. Timson again and firmly, "my client—my respected client," he added with emphasis "assured me that she had nothing to do with the commission of that crime. She was in a dead faint in the kitchen when her husband, in a moment of passion, struck down Captain Huxham."
 
"So she says because it is to her benefit to say so, Mr. Timson. But the man who saw the murder committed swears that it was a most deliberate affair, and was only done for the sake of certain jewels, which——"
 
"Deliberate or not, Mr. Inspector," interrupted the little man, "my respected client had nothing to do with it. Afterwards she held her tongue for the sake of her husband, for his sake also paid to the man who saw the crime committed."
 
"We can argue that point," said Inglis drily, "when we see Mrs. Vand. You are doubtless aware of her whereabouts?"
 
"No," said Timson coolly, "I am not."
 
"But you said you had seen her—after the murder was committed, I fancy you hinted."
 
"I saw her," said Timson, quite calmly, "on the day following her flight from the hut on the . She alighted in Piccadilly and walked about the streets for the rest of the night. Afterwards she went to a quiet hotel and had a brush and a wash up. She then called on me—"
 
"And you did not detain her when you knew——"
 
"I knew nothing. Had I known that she was flying from justice I certainly should have urged her to surrender. But the news of these terrible doings in Marshely had not reached London; it was not in the papers until the following day. You grant that?"
 
"Yes, yes! But——"
 
"No 'buts' at all, Mr. Inspector," said Timson, who seemed firm enough in spite of his meek aspect. "My client confessed to me that her husband had been drowned, and that he had murdered her brother in a fit of passion because Captain Huxham intended to turn his sister out of doors and alter his will on account of her secret marriage."
 
"That may have had some weight," said Inglis quietly, "but I fancy the sight of the jewels made Vand murder his brother-in-law. Did Mrs. Vand call to tell you this?"
 
"No!" snapped Timson, whose was giving way. "She called to make her will."
 
"Make her will—in whose favour?"
 
"I see no reason why I should not tell you," said the lawyer, "although I never reveal professional secrets. But I will tell, so that you may see how you have misjudged my client. She made a will in favour of Miss Isabella Faith——"
 
"Faith? Ah! she knew, then, that the girl was not her niece."
 
"Yes. But she did not tell me that, nor did I inquire. All she did was to make me, or, rather instruct me, to draw up a will leaving the Bleacres property and the five hundred a year she inherited from the late Captain Huxham, to Miss Faith, as some token of for having misjudged her. And now," cried Timson, rising wrathfully, "my respected client is misjudged herself. I come to clear her character."
 
"I don't see how that will clears her character," said Inglis coolly, "and from the fact that she made it I daresay she has committed suicide."
 
"Impossible! Impossible!"
 
"I think it is very probable, indeed, Mr. Timson, Mrs. Vand cannot get out of England, as all the ports and railway stations are watched, and there is a full description of her appearance posted everywhere. Unless she wants to get a long sentence for complicity in this most murder, she will have to commit suicide."
 
"I tell you she is innocent."
 
"Can you tell me that she is not an after the fact?"
 
"A wife is not bound to give evidence against her husband."
 
Inspector Inglis rose with a air. "I am not here to argue on points of law with you, Mr. Timson. All I ask is, if you know where your respected client is?" he laid a emphasis on his last words.
 
"No, I do not," said Timson, taking up his hat, "and I bid you good day."
 
What the lawyer said was evidently ............