ng to the practical part of the subject. "He might sleep there.
But Joyce must be taken in confidence."

"Joyce had better come in," said Mr. Carlyle. "I will say a word to her
first."

He unlocked the door and quitted the room. Miss Carlyle as jealously
locked it again; called to Joyce and beckoned her into the adjoining
apartment. He knew that Joyce's belief in the guilt of Richard Hare was
confirmed and strong, but he must uproot that belief if Richard was to
be lodged in his house that night.

"Joyce," he began, "you remember how thoroughly imbued with the
persuasion you were, that Afy went off with Richard Hare, and was living
with him. I several times expressed my doubts upon the point. The fact
was, I had positive information that she was not with him, and never had
been, though I considered it expedient to keep my information to myself.
You are convinced now that she was not with him?"

"Of course I am, sir."

"Well, you see, Joyce, that my opinion would have been worth listening
to. Now I am going to shake your belief upon another point, and if
I assure you that I have equally good grounds for doing so, you will
believe me?"

"I am quite certain, sir, that you would state nothing but what was
true, and I know that your judgment is sound," was Joyce's answer.

"Then I must tell you that I do not believe it was Richard Hare who
murdered your father."

"_Sir_!" uttered Joyce, amazed out of her senses.

"I believe Richard Hare to be as innocent of the murder as you or I," he
deliberately repeated. "I have held grounds for this opinion, Joyce, for
many years."

"Then, sir, who did it?"

"Afy's other lover. That dandy fellow, Thorn, as I truly believe."

"And you say you have grounds, sir?" Joyce asked, after a pause.

"Good grounds; and I tell you I have been in possession of them for
years. I should be glad for you to think as I do."

"But, sir, if Richard Hare was innocent, why did he run away?"

"Ah, why, indeed! It is that which has done the mischief. His own weak
cowardice was in fault. He feared to come back, and he felt that he
could not remove the odium of circumstances. Joyce I should like you to
see him and hear his story."

"There is not much chance of that, sir. I dare say he will never venture
here again."

"He is here now."

Joyce looked up, considerably startled.

"Here, in this house," repeated Mr. Carlyle. "He has taken shelter
in it, and for the few hours that he will remai