Mr. Winston's relations who will
bury the deceased?"

A stir in the witness box and Cyril came forward "I will undertake to
pay for the burial" he said.

"You?" cried the astonished judge "who are you pray?"

"My name is Cyril Sheene" replied Cyril getting very red "and I am the
greatest friend poor Mr. Winston had, besides his daughter who I know is
penniless.

"Very well" said the judge "you are a good benevolent man.

Little did the simple minded judge know, that the innocent looking
person he addressed in such kind tones was the real murderer of Mr.
Winston.

CHAPTER 12

HELEN'S RESOLVE

Cyril Sheene returned home to his lodgings quite satisfied with the
conclusion the case had come to. Entering the sitting room, he found Mr.
Palsey still busy writing, though the dinner was ready and fast getting
cold.

"Still busy?" cried Cyril, pulling off his gloves and sitting down to a
tempting looking dinner of juicy well cooked mutton chops, arranged
against a mountain of frothy mashed potatoes.

"Yes I'm terrificly busy" responded Mr. Palsey tearing up a large sheet
of foolscap as he spoke.

"Well lets have dinner now" responded Cyril sitting down as he spoke.

"Oh all right" replied Mr. Palsey, who was not the least hungry, "where
have you been all the morning?"

"In court" responded Cyril absently gazing at the mutton chops.

"In court man!" cried Mr. Palsey "what do you mean?"

"I mean what I say" replied Cyril. "I was in court, acting witness in
Mr. Winston's case."

"Really?" gasped Mr. Palsey "what is the result?"

"The case is withdrawn" replied Cyril feverishly, "they are convinced it
is suicide."

"Thank goodness" ejaculated Mr. Palsey "then we are well out of the
mess."

"Yes" answered Cyril and then vouchsafing no more the two men sat down
to their dinner.

Half way through ***y were interupted by Mrs. Pollard, who came in in a
great fluster.

"Please sir" she said in a hurry "Miss Winston seems so queer, she has
got up and dressed herself and wishes to see you at once."

"My stars" screamed Cyril, forgetting in his excitement what a gentleman
he was and with that he rushed upstairs to Helen's bedroom.

He found Helen standing by the bed, her hands beating wildly against her
heart and a hectic spot burning on her cheek.

She was completely dressed even to her grey travelling cloak which hung
limply on her shoulders.

"Cyril," she cried wildly, "I am going home, I can bar