‘A Deed of Gift, and for so large a sum!’ said Forde, looking from one excited lady to the other.

‘Oh, never mind the value,’ said Miss Lavinia impatiently; ‘to whom should Hannibal give the money if not to his own daughter? The question is this: What does Hannibal mean by acting in this way?’

Forde could make only one reply: ‘It looks like guilt.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Dericka vehemently. ‘I can’t and won’t believe that. Papa is weak and easily led, and perhaps his moral principles are not so strong as they might be. But I decline to think for one moment that he would commit a murder.’

‘I am of your opinion also, my dear,’ said Miss Quinton. ‘Hannibal, painful though it is for me to say, is less of a knave than a fool.’

‘A fool often makes more mischief than a knave, Miss Quinton.’

‘I agree with you, but the mischief made by this particular fool has made things very unpleasant for him.’

‘Oswald! Aunt!’ cried Dericka, her fair face flushing, ‘I wish you would stop calling papa names. He is no worse than many another person. Weakness is not a crime.’

‘It may lead to a crime,’ snapped Miss Lavinia, determined to have the last word.

Dericka allowed her the satisfaction of having it, and turned to Forde, holding out the letter, which she had retained in her hand.

‘I received that with the Deed of Gift from Mr. Gratton,’ said she.

Oswald took the epistle and sat down to read it, while Miss Quinton, putting on her gold-rimmed spectacles, glanced again through the deed which made Dericka a wealthy woman.

First Forde looked at the address to see where Sir Hannibal might be. But not even to his lawyer or daughter had the baronet given away the secret of his hiding place. The letter was dated from Gratton’s office in Cheapside, and intimated that Dericka was to make what use she chose of the sixty thousand a year, as the writer had full confidence in her common sense. ‘And as with such wealth you will be a fair mark for every knave,’ wrote Sir Hannibal, ‘I advise you to marry Oswald Forde as speedily as possible. He is poor, but at least he is an honest man.’

‘That’s good hearing,’ Forde remarked to Dericka, who was reading the epistle over his shoulder.

‘Papa tells me nothing I did not know before,’ she replied, touching his smooth hair gently. ‘Go on. The important part of the letter has yet to come.’

This was true enough, for towards the end of his communication Sir Hannibal strongly advised Dericka to stop searching for the assassin of John Bowring. Also, he declared that he was going abroad and had sufficient money yearly to keep him comfortably. If he wanted more he would send to Dericka for the same. There was no chance of his coming back, and now that the trouble of Bowring’s death was ended by his retirement, Dericka could marry Forde and live happily.

On the whole, as Forde thought when he came to the signature, the letter hinted that Sir Hannibal was guilty of the crime laid to his charge.

‘No,’ said Dericka again, and guessing what Forde thought from the expression on his face. Papa is innocent, but he may have gone away to shield the true assassin.’

Miss Lavinia looked up with an exclamation. ‘Do you think that my brother-inlaw knows who killed that miserable man?’ she asked.

Dericka nodded. ‘I can account in no other way for papa’s going into hiding,’ she said helplessly; ‘there is no reason otherwise.’

‘Unless he is guilty,’ said Miss Lavinia, grimly.

‘Aunt, you told me again and again that did not believe papa would commit a crime.’

‘Not one likely to bring him under the shadow of the gallows, at all events,’ said the old lady cautiously. ‘I would not say it to anyone but you, Dericka, or to Mr. Forde here, but that letter,’ she pointed with her lorgnette, ‘looks highly suspicious.’

‘I must say that I agree with Miss Quinton,’ remarked Forde, ‘and again, what I have learned from Miss Stretton and Anak seems to prove that Sir Hannibal had something to do with the matter.’

‘Tell me everything you have heard,’ said Dericka, growing slightly pale, but in a peremptory manner. In spite of her strong belief that Sir Hannibal was innocent she was beginning to falter, seeing that these two near and dear to her were also wavering as to the cleanness of the baronet’s hands.

Forde wasted no time in preliminaries. He then and there, in a blunt, brusque way, told what Anak had said, and what Miss Stretton had repeated.

Dericka listened with clasped hands, her eyes on his honest face. She saw no reason to disbelieve what he had said, but tossed her head irritably when Miss Stretton’s name was mentioned.

‘An adventuress,’ said Dericka contemptuously.

‘Yes and no,’ remarked Oswald quietly. ‘I think you are too hard upon Miss Stretton, my dear girl. She is no more an adventuress than many another woman who wants to get settled in life.’

‘I quite agree with you, Mr. Forde,’ cried Miss Quinton suddenly. ‘I have called Anne an adventuress myself, but, after all, since the woman’s face is her fortune why should she not try to gain an income from it. Anne comes of good stock, and I knew her parents very well. She is also clever and handsome, and your father — who is so weak that he is bound to marry again — might do worse than make Anne his wife. At least, she would keep him out of mischief.’

‘I don’t like Miss Stretton,’ said Dericka obstinately.

‘No woman ever does like another,’ retorted Miss Quinton, ‘especially when a woman wants to become a second mother.’

‘She’d never mother me,’ flashed out the girl colouring.

‘I don’t think there is much likelihood,’ said Miss Lavinia dryly, ‘seeing that Hannibal is under the ban of the law.’

Forde waited until this war of words was ended, then addressed himself to Dericka.

‘You cannot deny,’ said he, ‘that Miss Stretton behaved extremely well with regard to saving this house from being wrecked and getting your father out of the way.’

‘She did that to marry him,’ said Dericka ungratefully.

‘Oh,’ retorted the barrister rather coolly, for he thought Dericka unreasonable. ‘I don’t think Miss Stretton is so very anxious to marry your father. Even with the chance of getting sixty thousand a year she is willing, as I told you, to retire from the position of Sir Hannibal’s possible wife on receipt of five thousand pounds.’

‘And who will give her that?’ asked Dericka, fingering the deed significantly.

‘You will, if you are wise. Miss Stretton’s evidence would certainly damage Sir Hannibal.’

‘And the mere fact that she is trying to blackmail shows how much she loved papa. It was the money she was after.’

‘I don’t think she ever disguised the fact, Dericka.’

‘Then she’s a bad woman,’ said Miss Trevick decidedly.

Forde shrugged his shoulders, being quite unequal to arguing with so prejudiced a young lady.

‘What do you think, Miss Quinton?’ he asked.

‘Anne is like the rest of our sex,’ said Miss Lavinia indifferently, ‘neither wholly black, nor wholly white, but particoloured. At one time I should have been sorry to see her Hannibal’s wife, but now, I can tell you, Mr. Forde, that he needs a woman with a head on her shoulders to marry him, so why not Anne?’

‘I manage him,’ said Dericka sharply.

‘Quite so, child. But I understand you intend to manage Mr. Forde.’

Miss Quinton chuckled over her joke, and even Dericka smiled.

‘Well,’ she said, after a pause, and making a concession, ‘perhaps I am hard on Miss Stretton. But so far as I can see from the present position of my father, she will never marry him, especially when she knows that I have the money.’

‘And her price?’ asked Forde curiously.

‘I’ll see her about that later,’ said Dericka shrewdly; ‘the first person to be paid is Mrs. Krent. The news that I am to marry Morgan is all over the town.’

Forde nodded. ‘I thought that Mrs. Tregar would prove a good town-crier,’ he said with satisfaction.

‘I want the gossip contradicted at once by Mrs. Krent,’ said Miss Trevick imperiously, ‘so I have asked her to come here to-night.’

‘And you will pay her one thousand a year, Dericka?’ asked the old lady disapprovingly.

‘Certainly,’ replied the girl with a nod. ‘Mrs. Krent will not give evidence as to the marriage of Morgan and her daughter other wise. If that marriage is not proved I may be obliged to marry him, and in any case there would be trouble.’

‘It seems to me that a thousand in all would be sufficient for Mrs. Krent,’ sniffed Miss Quinton.

‘I don’t agree with you, Aunty. After all, Morgan, insane as he is, is the son, and should be the heir of Mr. Bowring. It will be a small thing to give him............