because I
wished to know more about her. I lost my way in the mist. I met a man on
the marshes who directed me to the village and the inn."

"When she heard your voice, and saw you going upstairs, she waited about
in the hope of seeing you before she went to bed, as she wished to avoid
meeting you in the presence of her father. When she saw Mr. Glenthorpe's
door open she acted on a sudden impulse, and went in."

"I have been rightly punished for my stupidity and my folly," said
Penreath. "I have wronged her beyond forgiveness."

"You really have not much to blame yourself for except your obstinate
silence. That was really too quixotic, even if things had been as you
imagined. No man is justified in sacrificing his life foolishly. And you
had much to live for. You had your duty to do in life. Nobody knew that
better than you--a soldier who had served his country gallantly and
well. In fact, your silence has been to me one of the puzzles of this
case, and even now it seems to me that you must have had a deeper motive
than that of shielding the girl, because you could have asserted your
innocence without implicating her."

"You are a very clever man, Colwyn," said the other slowly. "There was
another reason for my silence."

"What was it?"

"I am supposed to be an epileptic. I happen to know a little of the
course of that frightful disease, and it seemed to me that it was better
to die--even at the hands of the hangman--than to live on to be a burden
to my friends and relations, particularly when by dying I could shield
the girl I loved. That is why I was glad when the plea put up for my
defence failed. I preferred to die rather than live branded as a
criminal lunatic. So, you see, it was not such a great sacrifice on my
part, after all."

"What brought you back to the wood where you were arrested?"

"To see her. I do not know if I wanted to speak to her; but I wanted
above all things to see her once again. When I left the inn that morning
I had no idea that I might fall under suspicion for having committed the
murder, but I was desperately unhappy after what I had seen the night
before, and I didn't care what I did or where I went. Instead of walking
back to Durrington I struck across the marshes in the opposite
direction. I walked along all day, through a desolate area of marshes,
meeting nobody except an old eel fisherman in the morning, and, later
on, a labourer going home from his work. I was very tired when