you have had so much to do with the beginning of the case, it is only
fair that you should know the end, and a strange end it is."

Without a word Lucian sat down, feeling quite confused, for in no way
could he guess how Clear had come by his death at the hands of Rhoda. He
had suspected Lydia as guilty of the crime; he had credited Ferruci
with its commission, and he had been certain of the guilt of Clyne,
_alias_ Wrent; but to discover that the red-headed servant was the
culprit entirely bewildered him. She had no motive to kill the man; she
had given evidence freely in the matter, and in all respects had acted
as an innocent person. So this was why she had left Jersey Street? It
was a fear of being arrested for the crime which had driven her into the
wilds. But, as Lucian privately thought, she need not have fled, for--so
far as he could see--beyond the startling announcement of Link, there
was no evidence to connect her with the matter. It was most
extraordinary.

"I see you are astonished," said Link, with a nod; "so was I. Of all
folk, I least suspected that imp of a girl. The truth would never have
been known, had she not confessed at the last moment; for even now I
cannot see, on the face of it, any evidence--save her own confession--to
inculpate her in the matter. So you see, Mr. Denzil, the mystery of this
man's death, which we have been so anxious to solve, has not been
explained by you, or discovered by me, but has been brought to light by
chance, which, after all, is the great detective. You may well look
astonished," repeated the man slowly; "I am--immensely."

"Let me hear the confession, Link!"

"Wait one moment. I'll tell you how it came to be made, and then I'll
relate the story in my own fashion, as the way in which the confession
is written is too muddled for you to understand clearly. Still, it
shows plainly enough that Clyne, for all our suspicions, is innocent."

"And Rhoda, the sharp servant girl, guilty," said Lucian, reflectively.
"I never should have thought that she was involved in the matter. How
the deuce did she come to confess?"

"Well," said Link, clearing his throat as a preliminary to his
narrative, "it seems that Mr. Bensusan, in a fit of philanthropy, picked
up this wretched girl in the country. She belonged to some gypsies, but
as her parents were dead, and the child a burden, the tribe were glad to
get rid of her. Rhoda Stanley--that is her full name--was taken to
London by M