ips had shrunk apart, showing her yellow teeth. The fire
in her narrowed eyes was the fire of hatred.

"I am no murderer, Mrs. Unthank," he said. "Your son stole out from the
shadow of that wood, attacked me in a cowardly manner, and we fought.
He was mad when he attacked me, he fought like a madman, and,
notwithstanding my superior strength, I was glad to get away alive. I
never touched his body. It lay where he fell. If he crept into the wood
and died there, then his death was not at my door. He sought for my life
as I never sought for his."

"You'd done him wrong," the woman muttered.

"That again is false. His passion for Lady Dominey was uninvited and
unreciprocated. Her only feeling concerning him was one of fear; that
the whole countryside knows. Your son was a lonely, a morose and an
ill-living man, Mrs. Unthank. If either of us had murder in our hearts,
it was he, not I. And as for you," Dominey went on, after a moment's
pause, "I think that you have had your revenge, Mrs. Unthank. It was you
who nursed my wife into insanity. It was you who fed her with the
horror of your son's so-called spirit. I think that if I had stayed away
another two years, Lady Dominey would have been in a mad-house to-day."

"I would to Heaven!" the woman cried, "that you'd rotted to death in
Africa!"

"You carry your evil feelings far, Mrs. Unthank," he replied. "Take my
advice. Give up this foolish idea that the Black Wood is still the home
of your son's spirit. Go and live on your annuity in another part of the
country and forget."

He moved across the room to throw open a window. Her eyes followed him
wonderingly.

"I have heard a rumour," she said slowly; "there has been a word spoken
here and there about you. I've had my doubts sometimes. I have them
again every time you speak. Are you really Everard Dominey?"

He swung around and faced her.

"Who else?"

"There's one," she went on, "has never believed it, and that's her
ladyship. I've heard strange talk from the people who've come under your
masterful ways. You're a harder man than the Everard Dominey I remember.
What if you should be an impostor?"

"You have only to prove that, Mrs. Unthank," Dominey replied, "and a
portion, at any rate, of the Black Wood may remain standing. You will
find it a little difficult, though.--You must excuse my ringing the
bell. I see no object in asking you to remain longer."

She rose unwillingly to her feet. Her manner was sullen a