On her way from Lesser Thorpe to Southampton, Miriam, alone in a third-class carriage, was reading Jabez' letter for the fifth time. Short as it was, utterly selfish too as it was, it seemed to give her some sort of satisfaction. It bore a post-mark in the vicinity of the London Docks, and its contents were these:—

"28th December.

"Dear Miriam,

"I am not going to the States after all. From all I can hear there's too much of a crowd in the beastly place already. I have got hold of a tub off to the Cape—going to kick around there in search of what she can snatch in the way of cargo. I've managed to persuade the skipper to let me work half my passage money, so I shall arrive in Table Bay with a pound or two in my pocket after all. But if you can manage to screw some more out of the old man do, and send me on a P.O.O., and I'll look in for it at the office at Cape Town when I arrive. The old tub's called the 'Firefly,' though there's precious little 'fly' about her, and altogether she's about as sick a hulk as ever you saw. If I make a pile, I'll come back under another name, and look you up. If I don't, well, then you've said good-bye to me for bad and all. You won't wipe your eyes out over that, or I'm much mistaken. Good-bye. Yours,

"Jabez."

She sighed deeply as she finished reading, and her eyes were full of tears. How utterly callous and selfish he was! She wondered did he ever think of all that she had sacrificed for him—of the agony of mind, which, through him, she had been made to suffer. The letter was dated 28th of December. This was the third of January. He would be well away by now. How glad she was of that! At least she would be able to begin her life again without his burden to hamper her. She had thirty-five pounds in all, and, thanks to Barton's generosity, a roof at the hotel as long as she needed it. She had been worse off in days gone by. Then she fell to thinking of the unpleasant work before her. The mere thought of contact with the police repelled her. Still, she could see no help for it. Beyond reach of Mrs. Darrow she must be. Then came that other awful thought upon her: could it be possible—oh, the horror of it!—could it be possible after all that Jabez——She put it from her. She could hardly bear to think of it. And yet——But surely for his own sake he would not have risked that? It was not as if Barton had interfered with him. His hurried departure though, would of itself look suspicious she was afraid. And Mrs. Darrow would not fail to make the most of that injudicious threat of his against Barton. If only the letter had been dated the 25th instead of the 28th, she might have shown it to the inspector. It would have gone to prove an alibi. As it was she judged it would be wiser not to show it. She almost wished now that Jabez had waited. He might easily have been able to prove that he had returned to town on the morning of the 26th. But there again—no, he would not have dared even to come forward to do that. She feared that the past would be highly prejudicial even to him now if he were known. He was best away. She wondered if she were wise in stirring in the matter at all. But if she didn't Mrs. Darrow certainly would, and now, for once, she must consider herself. But she would screen Jabez if she could. The thing was how best to do it.

As Miriam was musing thus, the train ran in to Southampton. Depositing her traps in the cloak-room, she took a fly and drove straight to the police station. If possible she was very anxious to be able to return that night to London. She was received by Inspector Prince with all courtesy, for not only was the inspector well known in Lesser Thorpe, but he on his part had at his fingers' ends all that was worth knowing about everybody of any account in that not very extensive neighbourhood. And although he was by no manner of means a Vidocq, this genial officer, he was intelligent—highly so. To his present position he had risen deservedly if not with either rapidity or brilliance.

In appearance he was of ample figure and of fresh complexion, and his eyes were, Miriam thought, the lightest blue eyes she had ever seen. His whole bearing was nothing if not military. And like most men who have a very soft side to women, he was apt to convey that much when first coming into contact with them. Miriam therefore did not take long making up her mind that with him her course must be one of complete frankness and confessed weakness combined. With such weapons—and it must be confessed she knew well how to use them—she had every hope of achieving success with Mr. Inspector Prince.

"Well, Miss Crane, and what is it I can do for you?" he asked, when the door was closed upon them.

"I have come to see you about Mr. Barton's murder, Mr. Prince."

The pleasant smile vanished from his face, and gave place to an expression of extreme officialdom.

"Indeed!"

"Yes. I have something to tell you, which perhaps you will say I should have told you before. Mr. Barton's niece, Mrs. Darrow, accuses me of having inspired her uncle's murder!"

"Miss Crane, you surprise me," said the inspector. "That would mean that you were an accessory before the fact—a very serious charge, very serious."

"Exactly, and that is why I am here, Mr. Prince. I place myself unreservedly in your hands. It is, I need hardly say, as false a charge as it is malicious, and against such malice I feel I must protect myself. I felt that you were the proper person to come to. This Mrs. Darrow, I must tell you, hates me. I have been for some time, as I daresay you are aware, in her house as governess to her little boy. Not long since she contrived to overhear a conversation between myself and a friend of mine who came down from London to apply to me for help. She actually followed me to the place where I was to meet him, and in hiding listened to what passed between us. It so happened that my friend spoke of Mr. Barton in terms which he should not have used, and it is upon this that she has made this charge against me."

"May I ask the name of your friend?"

"Jabez——" Miriam gave a cursory glance round the room. "Jabez Tracey," she added, after a pause.

Now if Inspector Prince had been as clever as the cleverest of his kind, he would not have failed to notice that glance of Miriam's, and, having noticed it, to remark that the name Tracey was there in all the largeness of print upon a list of voters hanging on the wall. As it was he noticed nothing of the kind.

"Jabez Tracey," he repeated. "Well, let me hear some of the conversation, please, Miss Crane."

Miriam complied readily, suppressing nothing, not even the fact that Jabez had threatened to "knife" Barton should he molest him. To do so would have been to make a false move she knew, since Mrs. Darrow was sure to make a feature of it.

"And who is this man?" asked the inspector.

"That I have never told to anyone, but I will tell you now," said Miriam, in such a tone that the good inspector's protective shell of professionalism was so far pierced as to permit of the relaxing of his facial muscles visibly.

"He is an old playfellow of mine," she went on. "I must tell you I am the daughter of a sea-captain, and was brought up in the little fishing village of Brixham in Devonshire. Jabez Tracey was the son of a retired naval officer, and lived in the next house to ours. He became the teller of one of the banks in the West of England, and in a weak moment he embezzled some money. He was prosecuted and sent to prison. After he had served his sentence he went to London, where he fell into a life of dissipation and evil ways. About that time my father died, and I, too, had to go to London, and try and earn a living as a governess. One day I met Jabez in the street. He looked so miserably poor and ill, that in spite of everything I felt sorry for him, and I gave him what money I could. When I was engaged by Mr. Barton as governess for his little grand-nephew, I told him about Jabez. He, being intensely interested, as you probably know, in everything to do with crime and criminals, made inquiries about Jabez, and found out that he was once again in danger of arrest. Then I received a letter from Jabez saying that he was coming to Lesser Thorpe to see me, and asking me to help him to go to America, and make a fresh start there. By appointment I met him, as I have told you, near the church one evening, and gave him all the money I had—some twenty pounds. He took it gladly and went, saying that he was leaving for America at once via Liverpool. Since then I have not seen him."

"Nor heard of him?"

"Nor heard of him!" replied Miriam coolly. "But at that I am not in the least surprised, for he is the most selfish and ungrateful of men. There is another thing too; Mrs. Darrow, not content with her accusation of murder, says that I induced this man to steal Mr. Barton's will—you have heard of course that he made a will almost immediately before his death, and that it is nowhere to be found?"

"Certainly—that is so, Miss Crane. But excuse me, did Mr. Barton know this man?"

"No, I don't think he ever saw him."

"Will you be good enough to describe his appearance?"

"He is small and slight, very dark, and clean-shaven. His eyes are jet black, and he was very shabbily dressed in a suit of blue serge."

"And he said he was going to America—by that he meant the United States, I suppose?"

"Yes. On the night I saw him he left me with the expressed intention of joining the steamer at Liverpool next day."

"Rather strange, isn't it, that he didn't go by Southampton, since he was so near?"

"That I can't say. It never struck me. I have told you everything, Mr. Prince, exactly as it happened, because I feel I can trust you," and the look with which she accompanied her words was altogether too convincing for this very human inspector. "You see how absolutely baseless and spiteful this accusation is," she went on. "What interest could I possibly have in the theft of poor Mr. Barton's will? On the contrary, if she only knew it, I had a very strong interest in the opposite direction, since I believe it contained a legacy in my favour!"

"What's that, Miss Crane?"

"Mr. Barton was always very good to me. In fact, well——" and here Miriam cast down her eyes, "in fact, he wished to marry me!"

"'Gad, I don't wonder at that, miss. And may I make so bold as to ask why you refused him? He was eccentric we all know, but he did have a lot of money."

"Our ages alone made it quite impossible," replied Miriam. "I was obliged to tell him I could not marry a man I did not love, and I believe it was in the first instance that that made him think of me in his will. He told me I was the only woman he had ever known who put love before money, and that he intended leaving me a small income in his will."

"And did he?" asked the wily inspector, unable to resist laying a trap for her.

"Well, of course I don't know. I never saw the will. I only know he promised to, and I only tell you now to show you that it was presumably to my interest that the will should be forthcoming, not stolen."

"Most certainly. I have no hesitation in saying that from what you have told me, Miss Crane, there is not the slightest foundation for any sort of charge against you, and so I shall tell Mrs. Darrow if she comes to me."

"Then you won't require me to remain? I am quite willing to stay if you wish."

"Why, you're not leaving Lesser Thorpe?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I am doing, Mr. Prince. You can imagine it is not possible for me to remain with Mrs. Darrow after this. I am going to London to-night, to the Pitt Hotel in Craven Street, which will be my address for the present. Wherever I am, in fact, that will always find me."

"Well, so far as this matter is concerned, miss, there is no need for you to remain here. If I should want you I know where to find you."

"You may rely upon my doing anything that is in my power to help you, Mr. Prince, towards bringing to justice the murderer of my old friend. For Mr. Barton was the best of friends to me, and even if Jabez Tracey were to turn out to be guilty, which, mind you, I don't for one moment think likely, I should feel it my duty to do none the less on that account."

"Well, there's no denying it, miss, it is very strange that he should take himself off so very soon after he was heard to threaten Mr. Barton."

"But you forget; Mr. Barton was strangled—Jabez' threat was to 'knife' him!"

"Quite so. However, miss, these aren't the sort of things for you to meddle with. I may at some future time require your evidence, and in that case I'll let you know. Meanwhile, what you have told me, and your description of this young man, will be most useful. They shall have it in Liverpool within half an hour. Good-day to you, Miss Crane, good-day."

As Miriam turned the corner from the police station, she drew one long sigh of relief. For once it seemed as though Fortune were on her side. Inspector Prince might have been a very different kind of man, and then, well, Miriam had an uncomfortable conviction that her interview might have had a very different kind of ending. As it was she made her way to the station with a comparatively light heart, feeling that not only she herself but Jabez was perfectly safe. By means of the description she had provided, he would never be found in Liverpool or anywhere else.

There was the best part of an hour before her train left for London, so she went into the restaurant and ordered a chop.

When she came out the platform was already crowded, although there was still a quarter of an hour to wait. She was strung up and impatient, and the time seemed an eternity to her. At last the train was signalled and the bell rang. She stood beside the porter who was carrying her things. Suddenly she drew back with an exclamation of terror. There, on the platform before her, showing himself boldly to the world, was Jabez!