," he said ironically,
"then you believe that Miss Denham arranged that the yacht should be at
Gravesend, ready for her flight, after the death of Daisy."

"It looks like that," assented Morley. "I believe myself that the crime
was premeditated."

"And was the fact of my car being at the church gate premeditated?"
asked Ware angrily.

"Why not? Miss Denham knew that your car was coming for you after the
service."

"Morley, I admit that things look black, but she is not guilty."

"Humph! You love her."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"As you will. Let us say no more on the subject. I wish to tell you why
I came."

"It is sure to be a more disagreeable subject," retorted Giles; then
felt compunction for the rude speech. "I beg your pardon, Morley, I am a
perfect bear. But this illness has made me peevish, and the events of
the last few weeks have rendered my brain irritable. Forgive my bad
temper."

"Oh, that's all right, Ware," replied his visitor heartily. "I can
always make allowances for invalids. You'll be your old self again
shortly."

"I shall never be myself again," replied Giles gloomily.

It was on the tip of Morley's tongue to make some fresh reference to
Anne. But he knew that such a remark would only exasperate the invalid;
and, moreover, Giles looked so ill and worried that Morley generously
refrained from adding to his troubles. "Let us come to business," he
said, taking some papers out of his breast coat-pocket. "Since you were
engaged to Daisy I thought it right that you should be made aware of a
communication I have received from Asher, Son, and Asher."

"About the summons you told me of?" asked Ware wearily. He did not take
much interest in Morley's affairs.

"No. I have managed to compromise that. The solicitors have accepted
payment in instalments. In this instance they write to me officially as
Daisy's guardian. She has come into five thousand a year, Ware."

Giles opened his eyes and sat up in bed excitedly.

"Do you mean to say that her half-uncle Powell is dead?"

Morley nodded. "Very ironical, isn't it?" he said. "She was always
talking and hoping for the money, and now when it comes she is unable to
enjoy it. What tricks Fate plays us to be sure!"

"Poor girl!" sighed Giles; "how often have we discussed the prospect of
her being an heiress! I always told her that I had enough for both, but
she hankered after having money in her own right."

"Look at the papers," said