om the cottage a filthy and
evil-smelling tramp. A week's sandy stubble bristled upon his chin,
the pendulous lips were twitching, the crafty eyes shifted uneasily
from side to side.

The four lawyers stared upon the beastly apparition in disgusted dismay.

The sickly smile of guilty embarrassment upon their _vis-a-vis'_ face
had begun to swell into the cringing leer familiarly precedent to an
appeal for leniency, when the fellow leaned forward, stared fearfully
at the Judge, and, dropping the pullet with a screech, recoiled against
the wall.

"I ain't done no 'arm," he cried, whimpering. "I ain't done no 'arm.
I never stole that there 'en. She were dead in the way, me lord.
Runned over by a cyar, she were. I only come aout last Toosday, me
lord, an' tryin' ter run strite an' git a good job o' work, like wot
you said, sir. It's gauze trewth I never stole that there bird. She
was layin'..."

Out of a bad business the queer recognition stood solitarily opportune.
Rhadamanthus' own promise of clemency in return for the truth could not
have been more effective. The plain facts, however, were wofully
bitter to hear.

The tramp had taken undisputed possession at eight o'clock that
morning. The cottage was then empty. The fire was out and the bed in
order. Upon the floor of the living-room lay the fragments of a
pitcher, with the water, which this had held, settled in a pool upon
the bricks. A Windsor chair was fallen, Dagon-like, upon its face,
with its legs in the air. What no one could understand was the fact
that the lamp, which hung from the ceiling, was still burning.

* * * * *

More or less recovered, but profoundly depressed, Monseigneur Forest
reached Hampshire upon the following Thursday. He had visited the
Judge in London, and learned from his mouth first the news and then the
details of the unpleasant truth. His lordship's contention that Fate
was opposed to their endeavours, he found it difficult to dispute.
Believing that he was on his way to a triumph, he had come breathless
to participate in a rout. For three days he had dandled a new-born
joy, to find it stark upon the fourth....

Valerie was not at the station, but Mason was there with the car, and
the poor man was glad to be alone. He was mourning a stolen
opportunity to repair a great wrong, and would not be comforted. The
lost legatee haunted him more tragically than ever.

As the car swept to the hou