nly by one person.'

'Ha!' said the Doctor, with a start.

Instead of answering, Leonard leant down on the narrow bed on which he
was seated, and shut in his face between his hands.

The Doctor waited, guessed, and grew impatient. 'You don't mean that
fellow, Sam? Do you think he has it? I should like to throttle him,
as sure as my name's Dick May!' (this in soliloquy between his teeth).
'Speak up, Leonard, if you have any suspicion.'

The lad lifted himself with grave resolution that gave him dignity.
'Dr. May,' he said, 'I know that what I say is safe with you, and it
seems disrespectful to ask your word and honour beforehand, but I think
it will be better for us both if you will give them not to make use of
what I tell you. It weighs on me so, that I shall be saying it to the
wrong person, unless I have it out with you. You promise me?'

'To make no use of it without your consent,' repeated the Doctor, with
rising hope, 'but this is no case for scruples--too much is at stake.'

'You need not tell me that,' Leonard replied, with a shudder; 'but I
have no proof. I have thought again and again and again, but can find
no possible witness. He was always cautious, and drink made him
savage, but not noisy.'

'Then you believe--' The silence told the rest.

'If I did not see how easy people find it to believe the same of me on
the mere evidence of circumstances, I should have no doubt,' said
Leonard, deliberately.

'Then it was he that you saw in the yard?'

'Remember, all I saw was that a man was there. I concluded it was
Andrews, waiting to take the horse; and as he is a great hanger-on of
Sam, I wished to avoid him, and not keep my candle alight to attract
his attention. That was the whole reason of my getting out of window,
and starting so soon; as unlucky a thing as I could have done.'

'You are sure it was not Andrews?'

'Now I am. You see, Sam had sent home his horse from the station,
though I did not know it; and, if you remember, Andrews was shown to
have been at his father's long before. If he had been the man, he
could speak to the time my light was put out.'

'The putting out of your light must have been the signal for the deed
to be done.'

'My poor uncle! Well might he stare round as if he thought the walls
would betray him, and start at every chinking of that unhappy gold in
his helpless hands! If we had only known who was near--perhaps behind
the blinds--' and Leonard gasped.