before paul could express his surprise at the strange remark of iris, she left him, with a warning glance. still, astonished both at her speech and action, he was about to follow, when inspector drek made his appearance. he beckoned to mexton in a peremptory manner.

"i am about to examine the servant in the drawing-room," he said hurriedly; "you can be present if you like."

"as you please," answered mexton, with feigned indifference. "she may throw some light on the subject."

"has miss link done so?"

"no. i saw her for a few moments only; but she said nothing worth talking about."

in making this statement paul did violence to his own opinion; for, on consideration of the last remark made by iris, he was persuaded that she knew more about the matter than she chose to tell. she did not want him to search for the criminal, therefore it would appear that she was aware of the identity of the guilty person, and did not want him, or her--for it might be a woman--arrested. but why should she thus side with the murderer of her sister? paul could find no feasible answer to this question.

eliza made her appearance in the drawing-room in a state of hardly-controlled excitement, and took her seat before mr. inspector and paul with the air of one who considers herself of the greatest importance. she was a constant reader of novels, and now fancied that she was the heroine of a story in real life. short, red-faced and fat, eliza wore the honours thus thrust upon her with an air of dignity. but these airs and graces were completely thrown away on drek, who spoke to her sharply, and gave no latitude in answering. there was no romance about the inspector.

"well, eliza," said he, looking her up and down, "and what do you know about this murder?"

"sir," replied the servant, with dignity, "i don't know much, but i guess a lot."

"that is not to the point. we want facts, not fancies. do you know who killed this poor girl?"

"i 'ave my suspicions, mr. policeman."

"to whom do your suspicions point?"

"to my master, sir--to dr. lester."

"nonsense!" said drek, while paul started up with an exclamation of surprise. "you do not dare to say that dr. lester killed his own daughter--knowingly?"

"that's just where it is, mr. policeman. he killed her, i could swear; but he didn't know what he was doin'."

"perhaps you will explain?"

"certainly, mr. policeman. last night my master was drinking hard, and had had words with miss iris on the subject of the late deceased. miss iris went to look for the corpse before nine o'clock----"

"what do you mean by that expression?" interrupted mexton. "miss lester was not dead then; and if she was, miss link, ignorant of her fate, could not have gone to look for a 'corpse!'"

"i don't quite mean that, sir," said eliza, rather confused that her attempt at eloquence had proved so misleading; "what i do mean is that miss milly 'adn't come 'ome before nine, and miss iris went to look for her."

"i understand. but what about dr. lester?"

"he stayed in, drinking brandy, and when he was quite mad he went out with a pistol to look for his daughter."

"how do you know?" asked drek, rather startled by this explicit evidence.

"because i was watchin' and listenin'," said eliza with great candour. "i thought, as he was drinking, he might smash the furniture, according to custom; and miss iris, she asked me always to perteck the furniture, if needs be. i watched the door of the consulting-room, gentlemen, and i seed dr. lester come out with a weapon in 'is 'and----"

"a pistol?"

"yes, mr. policeman, a double-barril revolver. he rushed out, screeching that miss milly was a--well," said eliza, checking herself, "i can't say what he called her, but it was somethin' bad, you may be sure. i waited in, with great 'orror, sir, and when miss iris came back, i was glad to see she weren't a corpse. i thought as dr. lester might have met 'er, and killed 'er right out."

drek and the journalist glanced at one another, for this candidly-delivered evidence certainly seemed to implicate lester. "what did miss link say when you told her that dr. lester had gone out?" demanded mexton hurriedly.

"she seemed 'orror-struck, like me, sir; and then i went to bed, and she waited for the corpse. it arrived about midnight with mr. chaskin. i was woke up by a wild screech, mr. policeman, and came down to find the tragedy. for the rest of the night we all sat up till morning, when the deceased was taken for the inquitch to the herne arms, where she now is, an' may the lord 'ave mercy on 'er soul," finished eliza, with clasped hands.

"what time did dr. lester return?"

"in the mornin' at seven o'clock. he 'ad been wanderin' about all night, and tumbling into the mud. miss iris made him take off his clothes, 'cause they were all over red clay, an' he's been sitting drinkin' ever since."

"red clay!" repeated drek sharply. "and the corpse was found by mr. chaskin in the winding lane."

"what of that?" asked paul, curiously.

"simply this: that red clay is found in the winding lane, and owing to the late rain there is a good deal of mud about there. dr. lester must have been in the winding lane last night."

"an' so was miss milly," cried eliza; "they found 'er remains there."

there was silence for a few moments, and the three people looked at one another. all the evidence seemed to prove the guilt of dr. lester. he had gone out mad with drink and angry with the dead girl; he had taken with him a pistol, and milly had been murdered by such a weapon; finally, his clothes were covered with red mud, which was most plentiful in the neighbourhood where the corpse had been found. on this circumstantial evidence it would seem that dr. lester had killed his own daughter in a fit of drunken frenzy. this discovery added to the horror of the crime.

"my girl," said the inspector after a pause, "have you spoken of this to any one else?"

"no, sir; i swear as i 'asn't breathed a word."

"then don't breathe a word till i tell you," said drek shortly. "you can go now--and hold your tongue. wait!" he added, with an afterthought, "where are the clothes dr. lester wore last night?"

"i can get them, sir; they are in 'is bedroom."

"bring them at once to the consulting-room."

when eliza departed on this errand, paul looked at drek in a questioning manner. "why do you wish the clothes brought to the consulting-room?" he demanded.

"i want to demand an explanation of dr. lester."

"he is too drunk to understand you."

"no, he isn't. i saw him a few minutes ago, and he was coming round. besides, a knowledge of his position will sober him."

"do you really believe he killed his own daughter?"

"it would seem so," said drek in a perplexed tone; "but----"

"but what?"

"well," explained the inspector sagely, "i have been mixed up in one or two cases of this sort before, and i always mistrust evidence that is too plain."

"you speak in riddles."

"h'm! maybe; but i tell you i doubt this evidence. it is all dead against lester; still----"

paul interrupted. "the best thing to do is to question lester himself," he said, "force him either into confession or into defence."

"it is the most straightforward way," assented drek rising. "let us go into the consulting-room at once and look at the clothes."

"and look for the revolver," suggested paul significantly.

the inspector nodded, and they sought the presence of dr. lester. the wretched creature was recovering his senses, and as they entered he was drinking long draughts from the water-bottle to clear his head. at the sound of their footsteps he started nervously, and turned towards them a white and haggard face. paul wondered whether his looks and manner were due to drink or to guilt; certainly to one, perhaps to both.

"do you want to see me, gentlemen?" said the doctor, rising, with shaking limbs.

"yes," said drek, with a keen glance at the wreck before him. "i wish to ask you a few questions."

"relative to the murder of my poor girl?"

"relative to the red mud on your clothes."

"red mud!" stammered lester, with what appeared to be genuine amazement. "i have no red mud on my clothes!" and he looked down at his apparel.

"i refer to the clothes you wore last night," said drek shortly.

at this moment eliza entered with a bundle, which she threw on the floor; and to this drek turned his attention. coat, trousers, and waist-coat were all of light-grey cloth, and on the arms of the coat and the knees of the trousers were splashes of dried mud, red in hue. the inspector glanced at them, then at the startled face of lester, and searched the pockets with a practised hand. he could not find a single article in any one of them.

"where is the pistol, dr. lester?" he asked, rising from his knees.

"pistol! what pistol?" said lester, with a nervous tremour.

"the revolver which you took out last night."

"how--how do you know i took a revolver out last night?" asked the doctor, with a start.

"i saw you take it out, sir," broke in eliza. "you took it out to kill miss milly!"

lester gave a cry of alarm, and fell back in his chair. "are--are you mad?" he said. "i--i--kill--kill my own daughter!"

"well, you said you wanted to last night," persisted eliza.

"no--no--no!" cried the doctor, covering his face. "it is impossible!"

"improbable, but not impossible," corrected drek. "where is the revolver?"

"i don't know; i--i lost it."

"where?"

"i tell you i don't know; i can't remember," said the wretched man.

"dr. lester," said the inspector in a stern manner, "let me advise you to be careful, sir, for you stand in a very dangerous position. there is evidence against you that you killed your daughter."

"i tell you it's impossible!" shrieked lester, the perspiration beading on his forehead. "i kill milly! i loved her! i would not kill a fly! i--i--o god!--mexton, you don't believe that i killed milly?"

"i can't say," said paul, sorry for the man, although he was doubtful of his innocence. "the servant here says you were angry with milly last night, and went out with a revolver in search of her."

"no, no! i went in search of lovel."

"lovel?" cried drek, astonished by the introduction of this new name--"what had mr. lovel to do with it?"

"he was with my daughter last night; iris said he was."

"at what time?"

"between eight and nine o'clock. milly was in love with him, and as she was engaged to herne, i was angry with lovel. i went out to threaten him, but not to kill him, or her--no, no!"

"where did you go?" asked paul quickly.

"i don't know, i can't remember. i left this house with a pistol, and that is the last thing i can recall till i found myself at dawn in my own garden."

"there is red mud on your clothes," said drek, "so you must have been in the winding lane, where the red mud is most plentiful."

"i might have been. what of that?"

"simply this: the dead body of your daughter was found in the winding lane. she was shot through the head, and you went out with a pistol."

"o god!" lester clasped his hands together in an angonised way. "do you think i killed her?"

"i do," said drek. "i firmly believe it--so much so that i intend to arrest you on the evidence."

dr. lester shook all over, made an attempt to speak, and fell fainting on the floor. in the minds of the three spectators there was no doubt of his guilt. he had gone out to kill lovel; and by mistake, or mischance, he had killed his own daughter. the assassin of milly lester was her own father.