when gran jimboy revealed her secret, she finished with a croaking laugh of triumph, and lay back breathless on her pillow. her hearers remained silent, in sheer astonishment at the astounding statement which she had made, and which neither could believe. the old gipsy was irritated by this unspoken scepticism, and reiterated her charge.

"i ses that t'passon killed that gude maid!" she declared; upon which paul found his tongue.

"it is impossible!" cried he indignantly. "how dare you bring a charge like that against mr. chaskin! what motive had he for killing an innocent girl?"

"eh, dearie, he loved her. iss, gran spakes trew."

"chaskin loved milly!" said lovel, a colour rising in his swarthy face. "what are you talking about, gran? if he had loved milly, she would have told me.

"the maid was no fule, dearie," replied mother jimboy with feeble sarcasm; "she played wi' all hearts, and tould not one o' the other. did mun spake tu t' squoire o' you, dearie? no. nor did mun spake to you o' t'passon. oh, dearie me, but yon maid was cliver, for sure!"

'gran spoke so positively that lovel half-believed her, and stared with angry eyes at her cunning old face. his companion did not say a word, for it had just come into paul's mind that miss clyde, learning the fact from the gossip of mrs. drass, had brought the same charge against chaskin. evidently it was true, and milly had inveigled the vicar into loving her, in the intervals of her flirtation with lovel and her demure conversations with herne. she was determined that all should minister to her vanity and love of admiration; and had so played off the three men, the one against the other, that not one of the three knew that she was flirting with his rival. yet, as paul considered, the vicar must have occupied a different position, for he was aware that milly was engaged to herne, and must have known, what all the country gossips knew, that she was playing fast and loose with lovel when her future husband's back was turned. truly the village beauty had been a torch of destruction in her small way--a local helen--and undeniably a foolish, wicked, vain creature, with only her beauty to recommend her. cruel as the thought may seem, mexton fancied that it was just as well she was dead and done with. had she lived she would have contrived further mischief.

"suppose we grant that mr. chaskin was in love with miss lester," said he, after a pause, "why should he kill her?"

"for pure jealousy," replied gran. "ye don't think i spake trew? see ye here," and gran brought out a bundle from under the pillow. "i picked this up on the place where that poor maid was took."

lovel undid the bundle rapidly, and there lay before him a neat silver-plated pistol, the weapon, as he knew without being told, with which milly had been killed. as in the case of the incriminatory revolver of dr. lester, produced by miss clyde, there was a name on the butt. "francis chaskin" was the name.

"so he killed her, after all!" cried lovel, and handed the weapon to paul, with a fierce light in his eyes.

"aye, aye; 'tis so," mumbled gran, wetting her dry lips. "i was at the stile when mun fired the pistol."

"did you see him fire it?" asked paul. "did you see him kill the girl?"

"no," replied mrs. jimboy, "but i seed him on the common afore i came to the stile. he walked to the lane, an' i hears the shot. when i got to that stile, i see nothing but the dead maid. after i sees summat bright on the ground twinkle-twinkle in the moonlight. 'twas yon pistol, dearie; an' i picked it up an' run back to my tent quick as my old legs could carry me.

"did you think chaskin was the murderer at that time?"

"no, dearie; only when i saw the name o' mun on the pistol. i told that gude maid that she would goo down to the grave."

"and you thought that herne had killed her," said paul, sternly. "oh, you need not look so astonished, mrs. jimboy. i know you wrote a letter to mr. herne telling him that his promised wife was to meet lovel on sunday night."

"ees," said gran, in a hard voice; "i wrote; 'twas i as brought mun down."

"you!" cried lovel, aghast. "in heaven's name, why?"

"for your sweet sake, dearie," whimpered the old woman. "you be bone o' my bone an' flesh o' my flesh; an' you hev nowt o' goold, poor lamb! 'tis my wish as you'd wed wi' mistress clyde, an' hev lands an' money. but that dead maid was witchly, and was drawin' your heart into the net o' mun. i thought as t'squoire, seeing her wickedness, would take her fro' you, for religion's sake, an' wed her, so it might be she'd tempt ye no more; an' he could save the soul o' mun fro' the burnin' pit."

"you are a wicked old woman," said lovel, vehemently. "by bringing herne down you brought about the death of milly."

"no, dearie, no. 'twas passon killed her. t'squoire did nowt, dear heart. for your good i told mun o' his maid's bad doings."

"gran," said paul--for lovel was too angered to speak--"you prophesied a violent death to miss lester. did you make that prophecy knowing that she would be killed within twenty-four hours?"

"eh, dearie, i know'd not when she would be killed. but fair maids wi' fierce lovers had best be wary, an' i thought if t'squoire knew o' her wickedness, he might hev anger wi' her."

"in other words, you brought down herne in the hope that he might fulfil your prophecy, and kill milly," cried lovel. "you are a wicked old jezebel, and, blood or no blood, i shall have nothing to do with you!"

the old woman began to whimper and expostulate with feeble energy; but her grandson would listen to no excuses. with an angry look at her, he crawled out of the tent, and walked hastily across the common, trying to get rid of his wrath by violent exercise. it was easily seen, as he considered, that gran, had hoped for the death of milly at the hands of herne. that the squire had not killed her was due to the trance into which he had fallen while witnessing her fickleness; a trance which had rendered him incapable of inflicting punishment on the fair woman who had deceived him. without doubt--judging from the evidence of the pistol--chaskin had committed the crime; and finding herne in the trance, had probably taken his handkerchief and dipped it into the blood, with the idea of saving himself and inculpating his friend. lovel could not conceive how chaskin could have known of the meeting, unless----

"gran jimboy again!" he cried, stopping short, as the idea struck him. "she told chaskin, she excited his jealousy, and guided him to the spot. failing herne, she was determined that the parson should kill milly, and so fulfil her evil words, i see it all! we have been puppets, and that infernal hag has pulled the strings to make us dance."

while he was thus talking to himself, paul came running up, and expostulated with lovel for having left the tent so hurriedly. "gran is a wicked old woman," said he--"i admit that; and she has acted ill; but it is for your sake, lovel, that she has done these things."

"i know it, i know it! she wishes to force me into marriage with miss clyde. marry that amazon, with her mannish ways and rough tongue! i'd rather die!--the more especially when i know that milly was put out of the way to bring about the match," he concluded, biting his fingers.

"my dear fellow, you forget. herne, brought down by that letter, did not kill milly."

"no; but chaskin did," replied lucas wrathfully; "and i believe that gran told him of the meeting, and induced him to come to the place. however you put it, mexton, that old wretch is responsible for the tragedy."

"well," said paul, as they resumed their walk, "that point will bear arguing. but now that we know the truth, what is to be done?"

"we must tell drek, and have chaskin arrested."

"well, no; i don't think it is wise to do that. let us call at the vicarage, and give the man an opportunity of defending himself."

"he can make no defence, seeing that we hold the pistol with his name on it."

"my dear fellow," remonstrated paul, "remember herne's handkerchief. but for your evidence that he was in a trance, i should have believed him guilty."

"chaskin does not fall into trances."

"i know that; but he may have some other defence. at all events, it is only just to give him a chance before making the affair public."

"as you please," said lovel suddenly. "let us go to the vicarage at once. but chaskin will only lie, and deny his guilt."

chance had taken lovel's steps across the common, for in his anger at gran jimboy's revelations he had not perceived where he was going. paul had followed him, and while talking they had unconsciously drawn near to the stile which divided the common from the winding lane. only when they halted at the stile itself did they realise where they were; and in silence they looked at one another.

"shall we return?" said paul, in a low voice.

lovel shook his head, with a frown on his face, and climbed over the stile. paul followed, and they walked on towards the scene of the tragedy. on the very spot where milly's dead body had lain a man was standing with folded arms. he looked up as the young men drew near, and they saw the face of darcy herne. it was sad and downcast, and he appeared to have been meditating on the tragic death of his promised wife.

"herne!" cried paul, halting in his amazement, "i thought you were in london!"

"so i was," replied the squire carelessly, "but i came down to-day instead of waiting till to-morrow. my business was finished, so there was no need for me to idle in town. how are you, lovel?" he added abruptly, turning his eyes towards lucas.

"i am as well as can be expected under the circumstances," replied lovel gloomily; "but why do you pay me the compliment of asking after my health, mr. herne? do you not regard me as the murderer of miss lester?"

"no," replied herne quietly. "i did so once, but i have changed my mind."

"since seeing catinka?" questioned paul, sharply.

"what do you know about catinka?" asked herne, just as sharply.

"i know all that she could tell me about the rainbow feather, and her visit to barnstead."

"she told you about the rainbow feather?" repeated herne. "and how did you trace her connection with the rainbow feather?"

"that is too long a story to tell," rejoined mexton coolly; "but i got the clue on the day you found the rainbow feather on this very spot. catinka placed it on the body."

"but catinka did not commit the murder."

"i know that; nor did lovel here."

"h'm!" said herne, looking at the pair; "perhaps you suspect me of the crime?"

"what makes you think that?" asked lovel.

"because, if mexton saw catinka, she no doubt told him of my visit here on the night the murder was committed."

"yes, she did tell me," admitted paul.

"then, as you know so much, i may as well tell you all," said herne. "i received a letter by the last post on saturday night telling me that mr. lovel was to meet milly here on sunday night. the letter was not signed, but i know who wrote it."

"so do i, herne," said lovel. "gran jimboy, the gipsy, wrote it. she learnt from me at three o'clock about the meeting, and wrote at once, so as to catch the london post."

"why did she trouble to betray you?"

"for reasons i'll explain hereafter," replied lovel. "but what of your secret visit? it was jealousy which made you come down, no doubt?"

"no," replied herne, coldly, a light coming into his eyes; "it was a desire to save milly from the snare set by you."

"thank you for your good opinion."

"oh, you may sneer," said herne, with energy; "but i know you are not a child of god. i fought against you for the soul of milly, as angels fight against devils of the pit. i had rather she died than lived to be your wife, and lose her soul in worldly pleasures."

"all this is beside the question," sneered lovel. "i want to know about your visit."

"i came down to marborough in a kind of disguise," said herne, dropping his religious tone for that of a man of the world--"that is, i muffled myself up so that my face could not be recognised. from a stable on the outskirts of marborough i hired a horse and rode over to barnstead. i left the horse at the chequers, where i was not known, and came to this lane, where i watched, hidden behind yonder tree. i saw you, lovel, come up with milly; i saw you kiss; and such was my rage that before i could advance i fell into one of those trances to which i am subject. when i came to myself i was alone, and on the ground was the dead body of milly. it was then, lovel, that i thought you had killed the poor girl; but i could not prove your guilt because of my trance. again, as i had come by stealth to barnstead, i was afraid lest under the circumstances i should be accused of the crime. therefore i held my tongue about my presence here on that night."

"but you accused me!" said lovel, bitterly.

"i do not accuse you now," replied herne, coldly.

"and why?" retorted the young man. "because you know that chaskin is the assassin."