The announcement of Ackworth was so terrible, and so unexpected, that Clarice could scarcely believe her ears. She knew that Frank Clarke was a rascal¹ and extravagant², that he was selfish and dishonourable, but it never entered her head that he would turn out to be a cold-blooded murderer. No wonder the vicar, who had forgiven much to his prodigal³ son, had stopped short of finally pardoning such an unmitigated scoundrel.  
"He must have known what Frank was," said: Clarice, involuntarily.
 
"Who must have known?" asked Anthony, quickly.
 
"Mr. Clarke. He was here a short time ago, and would not let me mention his son's name. He must know. Yes," Clarice struck her hands together, "this was why he refused to let Prudence⁴ marry Ferdy."
 
"I thought that it was Prudence herself who refused to marry Ferdy."
 
"Yes, but for another reason. I told you that reason--the accusation⁵ of Mr. Clarke by Zara Dumps."
 
"I remember." Anthony ruffled⁶ his hair in sore perplexity. "What have you done about that?"
 
"I have seen Zara."
 
"You have seen that girl? When? Where?"
 
"Last night--in London. At the Mascot⁷ Music Hall, and at her own rooms. You look surprised."
 
"I am. You should not have gone to her rooms, let alone the Mascot Music Hall."
 
"I know that--but to save Ferdy I did so. It was just as well that I went, for several reasons. Oh, I have much to tell you"--Clarice drew her lover to the sofa with gentle force--"and perhaps you will be angry with me."
 
"I said that I would trust you," remarked Ackworth, slowly.
 
"Your trust has not been misplaced. But I have done what you may think rather a bold thing. Still, in this case, what I have learned is so important, that I can safely say that the end has justified⁸ the means."
 
"What have you done?" Anthony looked apprehensive⁹.
 
She tapped his cheek. "Nothing to make you colour up in that way, my dear boy. I'll tell you everything when you have explained how you came to find out about Frank Clarke."
 
"Oh, that will not take long. I asked Ferdy down yesterday, as you desired me to do, and he came without any suspicions that you wanted him out of the way. We had a very jolly evening. At least, Ferdy had, for I was worrying about you, and wondering what you were doing. Also, I must admit that I had the detective fever."
 
"What is that?" asked Miss Baird, opening her eyes.
 
"Well, the errand you wanted me to execute raised my curiosity to fever heat. I felt that I could not rest until I had learned the name of Jerce's consumptive patient, especially when I remembered that he was one of the Purple Fern triumvirate. Next morning, I had no duties to attend to, so I handed Ferdy over to an Irish chap, who would amuse him and keep an eye on him, and then bunked¹⁰ off to London by the ten o'clock train."
 
"You did not come up to see what I was doing?" asked Clarice, in a suspicious manner.
 
"No. I did not even know that you were in London," replied Anthony, rather wounded by her doubts, "and in any case, as I intended to trust you, I should not have spied upon you."
 
"I ask your pardon, dear," and she kissed him.
 
Ackworth accepted the delightful¹¹ apology, and continued. "I went down to Whitechapel, and had a deuce of a hunt to find Tea Street. But I came across a kind of Sister of Mercy, who knew all about Jerce and his philanthropic missions. Jerce has a surgery in Tea Street, and goes there twice a week, usually at night. Sister Anne--so she told me she was called, and it reminded me of Bluebeard--showed me where the consumptive young man had lived. The police had been there, after Jerce had communicated that letter to Scotland Yard."
 
"What letter?"
 
"The one given by the dying man to Jerce, warning him that he might be attacked by Osip. If you remember, the sick chap confessed that he was one of the members of the triumvirate. According to Sister Anne, this young man was called Felix Exton, but the police found stray letters in his rooms which showed that he was really Frank Clarke, the son of the vicar."
 
Clarice nodded. "And I expect the police came down and told Mr. Clarke about the discovery. Poor man, no wonder he suffers so terribly, and will not allow his son's name to be mentioned. That miserable¹² Frank--and yet I remember him a handsome, bright young man."
 
"He was a bad lot," said Ackworth, emphatically. "I scarcely blame a man for striking a blow in hot blood, but to murder in such cold-blooded ways as those adopted by the Purple Fern gang is too terrible to think of. And now that we know Frank Clarke was an assassin, it would seem as if the instinct to murder was hereditary¹³."
 
"No," said Clarice, quickly. "You must not think so badly of the vicar, Anthony. He is innocent." And she related to her lover all that Mr. Clarke had explained to her.
 
"Humph!" said Ackworth, when she ended, "that's a very plausible¹⁴ tale, but we have only the vicar's word for its truth. And it is to his interest to exonerate¹⁵ himself. His son was connected with Osip, so Clarke himself, through Frank, may be connected also with that blackguard. I wish he could be found--Osip, I mean. I wonder with such a personality he has not been spotted¹⁶."
 
"I saw him," said Clarice, unexpectedly.
 
"You?" Anthony rose, with a startled gesture.
 
"Yes," she said, faintly, "at the Mascot Music Hall."
 
The young man looked at her anxiously. "Clarice," he said, taking her cold hand, "you look pale. Mrs. Rebson said something about your having influenza¹⁷; yet you were all right when I saw you last."
 
Clarice nodded. "I might say that I caught cold, as you were afraid I should do, when we were in the porch. But I can't say that, because it is not true. I am quite well."
 
"You don't look it."
 
"I have not the influenza, I mean," she corrected; "I pretended to be ill, so that I might carry out my scheme."
 
"What scheme?"
 
"The one I had in my mind, when I asked you to trust me. Anthony, I want you to tell me. Do you trust me still?"
 
"Of course I do." He laid his hand caressingly¹⁸ on her head, "don't be afraid that I'll blame you in any--why, Clarice!"
 
He might well utter her name in an astonished tone, for the hair, so lightly pinned on her head, came off, and the plaits remained in his hand. There she sat, with her head cropped like a man's, and a pale smile on her face. "I intended to tell you," said she, quietly, "but it is just as well that you have found out in this way."
 
"Found out what? Why have you cut off your beautiful hair?"
 
"Don't you think that I look rather like Ferdy?"
 
"Very. But I don't want you to look like Ferdy. I prefer you as you are, my dear."
 
"My dear," she echoed, "does that mean forgiveness?"
 
"For what?" Anthony looked more puzzled than ever.
 
"For my masquerade. I cut off my hair. I dressed in a suit of Ferdy's clothes. I went to London as Ferdy, and stopped at his favourite hotel. Also I went to the Mascot Music Hall as Ferdy, and to Zara Dumps' flat as Ferdy, and learned a great deal."
 
Anthony stared at her open-mouthed. "Do you mean to say that you dressed as a man?" he asked, aghast.
 
"Yes. It was necessary to learn Ferdy's secrets, so I utilised my resemblance to him to find out what I wanted. No one discovered that I was Clarice Baird, save Zara."
 
"Oh, Lord!" Anthony clutched his head. "She will tell everyone."
 
"No, I have made that right. I know too much about Zara for her to betray me. I am quite safe. Only Zara knows, and Mrs. Rebson knows, and now you know. I am absolutely safe."
 
"But what made you do such a mad thing?"
 
"I have told you--to save Ferdy."
 
"But I could have gone up, and----"
 
"No," interrupted Clarice, imperiously. "Zara would have laughed at you. I did what I did, with a full knowledge of what I was doing. You must forgive me, Anthony, and I think you will, when you learn what terrible things I have discovered."
 
"Of course, I am somewhat annoyed," said Ackworth, slowly, "at least, I would be, were you an ordinary woman. But you are so clever, and so well able to look after yourself, that I forgive you this time. But I must ask you not to masquerade again as Ferdy."
 
"I promise that," she said, with a sigh. "Ferdy is in such danger that you must help me."
 
"Ferdy in danger? What sort of danger?"
 
"Let me............