d that this criminal worshipped him. Once Mr.
Lyne brought him to the Stores and wanted to give him a job but the man
would not accept it. Mr. Lyne once told me that Sam Stay would do
anything in the world for him."

"Stay thinks you committed the murder," said Tarling bluntly. "Lyne has
evidently told stories about you and your hatred for him, and I really
think that Stay would have been more dangerous to you than the police,
only fortunately the little crook has gone off his head."

She looked at him in astonishment.

"Mad?" she asked. "Poor fellow! Has this awful thing driven him ..."

Tarling nodded.

"He was taken to the County Asylum this morning. He had a fit in my
office, and when he recovered he seemed to have lost his mind completely.
Now, Miss Rider, you're going to be frank with me, aren't you?"

She looked at him again and smiled sadly.

"I'm afraid I shan't be any more frank than I have been, Mr. Tarling,"
she said. "If you want me to tell you why I assumed the name of
Stevens, or why I ran away from London, I cannot tell you. I had a good
reason----" she paused, "and I may yet have a better reason for running
away...."

She nearly said "again" but checked the word.

He laid his hand on hers.

"When I told you of this murder," he said earnestly, "I knew by your
surprise and agitation that you were innocent. Later the doctor was
able to prove an alibi which cannot be shaken. But, Miss Rider, when
I surprised you, you spoke as though you knew who committed the crime.
You spoke of a man and it is that man's name I want."

She shook her head.

"That I shall never tell you," she said simply.

"But don't you realise that you may be charged with being an accessory
before or after the act?" he urged. "Don't you see what it means to you
and to your mother?"

Her eyes closed at the mention of her mother's name, as though to shut
out the vision of some unpleasant possibility.

"Don't talk about it, don't talk about it!" she murmured, "please, Mr.
Tarling! Do as you wish. Let the police arrest me or try me or hang
me--but do not ask me to say any more, because I will not, I will not!"

Tarling sank back amongst the cushions, baffled and bewildered, and no
more was said.

Whiteside was waiting for the train, and with him were two men who were
unmistakably branded "Scotland Yard." Tarling drew him aside and
explained the situation in a few words.

"Under the circumstances," he said, "I shall not e