--it will, you are sure, are you not?"

"It looks like it, Lucy, my poor girl," he answered. "But there, the
whole thing is so terrible that I scarcely know what to think."

She was a pretty girl with dark eyes, and under ordinary circumstances
must have had the vivacious expression of face and the brilliant
complexion which so many of her countrywomen possess. But now her eyes
were swollen with weeping and her complexion more or less disfigured by
the agony she had gone through. She looked piteously at Bainbridge, her
lips trembling. The next moment she burst into tears.

"Come away, Lucy," said a woman who had followed her out of the cottage;
"Fie--for shame! don't trouble the gentlemen; come back and stay
quiet."

"I can't, mother, I can't," said the unfortunate girl. "If they hang
him, I'll go clean off my head. Oh, Mr. Bainbridge, do say that the
second death has cleared him!"

"I have every hope that it will do so, Lucy," said Bainbridge, "but now
don't keep us, there's a good girl; go back into the house. This
gentleman has come down from London on purpose to look into the whole
matter. I may have good news for you in the morning."

The girl raised her eyes to my face with a look of intense pleading.
"Oh, I have been cruel and a fool, and I deserve everything," she
gasped; "but, sir, for the love of Heaven, try to clear him."

I promised to do my best.

Bainbridge touched up the mare, she bounded forward, and Lucy
disappeared into the cottage with her mother.

The next moment we drew up at the inn where the Inspector was waiting,
and soon afterwards were bowling along between the high banks of the
country lanes to the tunnel. It was a cold, still afternoon; the air was
wonderfully keen, for a sharp frost had held the countryside in its grip
for the last two days. The sun was just tipping the hills to westward
when the trap pulled up at the top of the cutting. We hastily alighted,
and the Inspector and I bade Bainbridge good-bye. He said that he only
wished that he could stay with us for the night, assured us that little
sleep would visit him, and that he would be back at the cutting at an
early hour on the following morning; then the noise of his horse's feet
was heard fainter and fainter as he drove back over the frost-bound
roads. The Inspector and I ran along the little path to the wicket-gate
in the fence, stamping our feet on the hard ground to restore
circulation after our cold drive. The next mom