t. When she heard the name of Giles she
uttered a cry. "Keep him away!" she said harshly. "Keep him away! Don't
let him come!"

"Anne! Anne!" cried Giles, coming forward, his mouth dry, his hands
clenched. "Do not tell me that you killed Daisy."

There was a groan and silence, but Anne--so far as he could see--buried
her face in the pillow. It was Franklin who spoke. "Anne, you must tell
the truth once and for all."

"No, no," she cried, "Giles would despise me."

"Anne," he cried in agony, "did you kill her?"

"Yes," came the muffled voice from the bed. "I found her at the grave.
My father was not there. He had missed her in the darkness and the snow.
She taunted me. I had the stiletto, which I took from the library, and I
killed her. It was my father who saved me. Oh, go away, Giles, go away!"

But Giles did not go. He rose to his feet and stepped towards the
window. In a second he had the blind up and the curtains drawn apart.
The light poured into the room to reveal--not Anne Denham, but the girl
Portia Franklin.

CHAPTER XIX

THE CLUE LEADS TO LONDON

It was indeed Portia. Seeing that she was discovered, she sprang from
the bed and faced Giles with a sullen, defiant look on her freckled
face. Still standing in the strong light which poured in through the
window, Ware looked at the girl satirically.

"You are a very clever mimic, Miss Franklin," said he, "but you rather
forgot yourself in that last speech. Anne is of too sensitive a nature
to have explained herself with such a wealth of detail."

"You were deceived at first," grumbled Portia, rocking herself.

"Only for a moment," replied Giles. "And now I should like to know the
meaning of this masquerade?"

"I also," cried Franklin, in his turn. He was staring at his daughter
with a look of profound amazement. "Where is Anne, you wretched girl?"

"She has run away."

"Run away!" exclaimed the men simultaneously.

"Yes. After your finding out last night that she had killed Daisy Kent
she was afraid to stop. She knew that you hated her father, and thought
you might hand her over to the police. Last night she told me so, and
said she would run away. I love Anne, and I let her do as she liked. It
was I who let her out," ended Portia, defiantly.

"Anne should not have so mistrusted me," cried Franklin, much perturbed.
"Surely I always protected her, and treated her well."

"Ah, but you didn't know till last night that she was guilty."

"