In the dingy¹ study an eloquent² silence prevailed. After making her startling announcement, Prudence³ sat tearless, and with a drawn⁴ white face, plucking at the damp handkerchief she carried in her hands. Poor girl, she had wept until she could weep no more, and all she could do, with worn-out emotions, was to hold her peace, until Clarice could help her to continue the conversation. That young lady, as white-faced as her hostess, sat tongue-tied and horrified⁵. She looked at the sad figure before her, at the grim line of theological books bound in calf⁶, at the unclean window with its ragged⁷ curtains, and at the grimy carpet, worn and faded. It took her some time to collect her thoughts. When she did recover her speech, it was to energetically deny the truth of the girl's speech.  
"I don't believe it," cried Clarice, decisively; "don't talk to me, Prudence," she went on, as the girl was about to speak, "you know perfectly⁸ well that Uncle Henry was murdered by that wretched Osip, and that a verdict to that effect was brought in by the jury. Besides, what possible object could your father have to commit murder?"
 
Prudence looked up with a scared look, and stealthily glanced at the door, as she answered in a whisper. "The loan--the interest," said Prudence, in the voice of a ghost, so thin and low was her speech.
 
Clarice started and reflected. There certainly was a motive⁹ here to make Clarke commit a crime--that is, if Horran, grinding him to the dust, had proposed to sell him up. But that is exactly what the dead man never intended to do. "Uncle Henry would never have behaved like a usurer," said Clarice.
 
"He charged father ten per cent.," said Prudence, scathingly.
 
"If he had been a Shylock, he would have charged him fifty per cent., my dear, and also he would not have allowed the interest to run on for three years without claiming his own. And now I think of it," added Clarice, recalling a late conversation with Mr. Barras, "Uncle Henry knew very little about the matter. He instructed Mr. Barras to lend your father one thousand pounds, and omitted to mention the interest. Mr. Barras charged ten per cent. on his own. It is a large percentage, but then Mr. Barras is not the most amiable¹⁰ of men. And, I suppose, he thought he was doing right in getting as much as he could for the money."
 
"Father owed Mr. Horran one thousand pounds and three hundred for interest," said Prudence, "and----"
 
"One moment, dear. He owed this, and still owes this to the estate of myself and Ferdy. Mr. Horran had a settled income for acting¹¹ as our guardian¹², but the money he lent was ours, and not his. I have taken this debt upon myself, and when you marry Ferdy, I'll give your father a discharge."
 
Prudence lifted up her hands with a low wail¹³. "I can never marry Ferdy," she said, in a broken voice.
 
"What nonsense; you shall marry him."
 
"And see my father stand in the dock as a felon¹⁴."
 
"There is no chance of that, Prudence. What does your father say?"
 
"Clarice! Do you think that I have told him?" she said, vehemently¹⁵. "Oh, no. Poor father has enough troubles to bear, without my heaping more on him. He knows nothing of my reason for refusing to marry."
 
"But he objects himself?" said Clarice, much perplexed¹⁶.
 
"Yes, because of my brother. Frank has brought disgrace on us, and has died in disgrace."
 
"When and where, Prudence?"
 
"I can't tell you anything," rejoined the girl; "all I know is that just after the burial of your guardian, father received some bad news about Frank. I have not seen Frank for years, nor have I heard anything about him. He was always in trouble, and father was always sending him money. He borrowed that thousand to help Frank and get him out of some scrape. But this time the news must have been awful, for father came to me, and, saying that Frank was dead, and that he never wished to hear his name mentioned again, he wrote off to get another clergyman, and arranged that we should go away for a time."
 
"But has he never told you what your brother did?"
 
"No. I have asked him three or four times; he will not say a word about poor dead Frank. And then father told me that because Frank had done something wicked, that I was to give up all thought of marrying Ferdy."
 
"Did you agree to that?"
 
"No. I said that Frank's sins should never spoil my life, and father was very angry with me."
 
"That was perfectly right," said Clarice, heartily¹⁷, her common sense coming to her aid; "if the sins of the father are visited on the children, that is no reason that the additional burden of a brother's faults should be heaped on a sister's shoulders. You were quite right to stick to Ferdy, my dear. But what caused you to change your mind, Prudence?"
 
"I was told that my father had murdered Mr. Horran," said the poor girl again, and in the same terrified whisper; "and that if I married Ferdy, information would be given to the police, which would lead to his arrest."
 
"What a preposterous¹⁸ story," said Clarice, indignantly, "did you believe it, Prudence?"
 
The girl glanced round again, and seemed to shrink into nothing as she whispered, "Yes!"
 
Clarice stared at her. "You ought to stick up for your father," said she, with some slang, but with great truth.
 
"God help me, I wish I could," wailed¹⁹ Prudence, clasping her hands.
 
Clarice caught one of her hands. "Be more explicit," she said, quickly; "you have told me so much that you must tell me all."
 
"You won't let the police know about father's guilt²⁰?"
 
"No, because I don't believe that he is guilty. Why, the jury brought in a verdict against Osip. The evidence was perfectly plain. Go on, tell me all you know."
 
Prudence drew her chair close to that of her visitor's, and placed her lips to Clarice's ear. "Father owed that money, as you know," she explained, hurriedly; "and Mr. Barras wrote, saying that, unless the interest was paid immediately after New Year, father would be sold up. He was nearly frenzied²¹, as he could not have stopped in the parish if such a sale had taken place, and we are so poor that we had nowhere to go to. Then, as father said, the Bishop²² might have interfered²³."
 
"Private matters of this sort have nothing to do with the Bishop."
 
"Father thought otherwise, and went about the house moaning that he was in disgrace, and did not know what to do. Then you came on the day Ferdy and I became engaged. Father was more cheerful after you had gone, both on account of my engagement, and from something which you said to him."
 
"I said that I would speak to Uncle Henry and settle the loan," said Clarice, rapidly; "go on, dear, I want to know all before your father returns."
 
"Afterwards father fell into low spirits again, and wanted to see Mr. Horran for himself. He tried to, but was refused admittance."
 
"I know," nodded Clarice. "Dr. Jerce thought that such a visit would irritate Uncle Henry. Now that I know Mr. Barras charged ten per cent., and that Uncle Henry, who respected your father, was ignorant of such extortion, I quite understand why Dr. Jerce did not want Uncle Henry to be upset. He was quite right. But then, Prudence, your father did see my guardian."
 
"Yes. He went in by the open French window, and----"
 
"I remember what he said at the inquest," interrupted Clarice, with a musing²⁴ air. "Ah!" She started as the memory came back to her; "he stated that Uncle Henry denied giving Mr. Barras permission to lend the money."
 
"No," said Prudence, quickly; "if you will refer to the newspaper report, Clarice, he really said that Mr. Horran declared that he had not given Mr. Barras permission to lend the money at ten per cent. So that agrees with what you say. Mr. Barras was allowed to make the loan, but charged ten per cent. on his own account, so to speak."
 
Clarice nodded. "Well, then, Uncle Henry told your father not to worry, and said that he would write to Mr. Barras."
 
Prudence nodded. "Yes, I remember."
 
There was a pause. Then Clarice said, impatiently: "Well, then, my dear girl, if matters were thus adjusted by my Uncle Henry and your father, I don't see what motive Mr. Clarke had to kill my guardian."
 
Prudence thought for a few moments. "Clarice, it may be that my father did not tell the exact truth about the interview at the inquest. You see, he wished to avert²⁵ suspicion from himself."
&............