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y of it; and who also possessed the means of getting quietly away after the deed was done. Mr. Brancker says that he knocked several times at Strong's door; Strong says that no one knocked; Mr. Brancker has a contusion over his left eye, which he accounts for by saying that a woman hit him with a stone. Finally, how are we to account for the blood-smears with which Mr. Brancker's drawer is marked both inside and out, as well as the floor in front of it?"
"For all that you have said I do not care one jot," was Edward Hazeldine's answer. "I am perfectly convinced that John Brancker had no more to do with the death of my father than I had."
"I am not saying that he had. I am only showing you which way the evidence is tending. In all probability the researches of the police during the next few days will put an entirely different complexion on the affair."
Edward Hazeldine went his way, a thoroughly unhappy man. It is not too much to say that the horror with which he had first heard of his father's death was now to a certain extent overshadowed by the grief and shame caused him by the reading of his father's letter. Under his cold, practical, matter-of-fact exterior lay hidden a proud and, in some things, a very sensitive nature, which was far more easily wounded than anyone knew of, and very deep was the wound made in it today. He prided himself on being a thoroughly just man, and it was essential to his happiness that all his actions should meet with the approval of his own conscience. But still more essential was it that he should stand well in the eyes of the world, and be one of whom his fellow-townsmen might have just reason to feel proud. Hidden in the deepest recesses of his mind lay the half-formed hope of one day being able to represent his native town in Parliament. It was a hope of which he had never spoken to anyone, but none the less was it secretly cherished. From the time when he was a boy of twelve, he had set himself steadily to regard his advancement in life, and the acquisition of wealth and social position, as the great ends for which he must never cease to strive.
But what would Lord and Lady Elstree think and say, and in what way would they act, should he ever be compelled to reveal to the world the real facts connected with his father's death? In such a case he knew full well that the doors of Seaham Lodge would be closed to him forever, and that he must give up all hope of ever winning the hand of Miss Winterton. Goshope Grange, one of the Earl's country seats, to which he had been invited for a week's shooting last September, and where he had for fellow-guests two lords, three baronets, and a host of minor celebrities, would know him no more. Social extinction would be the fate of him and his, should the contents of his father's letter ever become known. After such an exposure, how could he bear to look his fellow-townsmen in the face? He would have to give up his business, if indeed, his partners did not insist on his seceding from it; all his ambitious projects would fall in ruins around him, and he would have to seek another home in some place where he was known to none.
"And as matters were now turning out, it seemed only too probable that he would feel himself compelled to reveal the contents of the letter. It would never do to let an innocent man suffer under the stigma of so terrible a crime. Whatever the cost to him and his might be, that man's innocence must be proclaimed aloud on the housetops. Very bitter were his thoughts as he walked slowly through the town, with his hat pulled over his brows and his eyes bent on the ground, towards his father's house. A chill shot through his heart as his fingers touched the muffled knocker. The servant who let him in burst out crying afresh the moment she set eyes on him, and he needed all his nerve to enable him to retain his outward composure as he opened the drawing-room door and went in. Clement was sitting on one side of the fireplace, Fanny on the other. Edward touched his brother lightly on the shoulder, and then the hands of both met in a long, affectionate grip.
"Where is my mother?" asked the elder man.
"She is lying down in her own room," answered Fanny. "When I went to her, a few minutes ago, she was asleep."
"Sleep is the best thing for her just now. I must leave it to you, Clem, to induce her to keep up her strength as much as possible."
"You may rely upon it that I will look after her."
Presently Edward took his leave. He was restless and anxious to get home. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts. The company of anyone would have been distasteful to him just then. He shut himself up in his study as soon as he reached home.
Next day Mr. Avison, who had been telegraphed for, arrived from Paris, and he and John Brancker at once set to work to ascertain to what extent the Bank was a sufferer by the recent robbery. The result was that gold and notes to the amount of about three thousand one hundred pounds proved to be missing, together with the twelve hundred pounds which the dead man had brought with him from London.
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