"Richard," interrupted his sister, in a hushed voice, "mamma entertains
one fixed idea, which she cannot put from her. She is certain that
Bethel had something to do with the murder."

"Then she is wrong. Why should she think so?"

"How the conviction arose at first, I cannot tell you; I do not think
she knows herself. But you remember how weak and fanciful she is,
and since that dreadful night she is always having what she calls
'dreams'--meaning that she dreams of the murder. In all these dreams
Bethel is prominent; and she says she feels an absolute certainty that
he was, in some way or other, mixed up in it."

"Barbara, he was no more mixed up in it than you."

"And--you say that you were not?"

"I was not even at the cottage at the time; I swear it to you. The man
who did the deed was Thorn."

"Thorn!" echoed Barbara, lifting her head. "Who is Thorn?"

"I don't know who. I wish I did; I wish I could unearth him. He was a
friend of Afy's."

Barbara threw back her neck with a haughty gesture. "Richard!"

"What?"

"You forget yourself when you mention that name to me."