The report of the murder caused great excitement in London. It seemed terrible that so old a man, and a titled man at that, should be murdered in his own house and by his profligate grandson. The general opinion was that Bernard should not only be hanged, but drawn and quartered, as his crime amounted to parricide. But this vengeful demand was made only by the extreme people, and the newspapers were on the whole very fair in their statements. Although it seemed quite certain that young Gore was guilty, yet the journals gave him the benefit of the doubt. Not till after the inquest did any newspaper venture to state that the man had really committed the crime. But this was as it should be, if the fair play instinct of the English race is to be lived up to.

Durham attended the inquest as Sir Simon's lawyer and executor, and Miss Plantagenet attended it with him. She saw the solicitor only for a few minutes and they had little time to exchange opinions. But Durham assured Miss Berengaria that he was certain Bernard was innocent, upon which the old gentlewoman clapped him on the back. Her good opinion was strengthened at the inquest by the sturdy way in which the lawyer maintained this point.

Beryl was also present with Inspector Groom. He looked pale and somewhat worried, and when his eyes fell on the withered, resolute face of Miss Berengaria, he winced, knowing she was a firm friend to his cousin. As yet the body of the young man had not been found, and both Durham and Miss Plantagenet were certain that Bernard was still alive. But the general opinion was that he had been drowned while escaping. Mrs. Gilroy was also present with Lucy, and these sat in the body of the court near Miss Berengaria. That old dame knew well that the housekeeper was no friend to the accused man, but she was not certain as regards Lucy. As Miss Randolph was engaged to Beryl, whom Miss Berengaria disliked heartily, she was prepared to think badly of the girl, going by the proverb that like draws to like. She therefore waited to hear Lucy's evidence before speaking to her, and although she was quite near her never turned her head to look or make any sign of recognition.

Inspector Groom, who was called first, detailed how he had been summoned in to see the dead body of the baronet, and related what evidence he had gathered, and gave also the names of the witnesses he proposed to call. Amongst these were Jane and the cook, also the page, for these three domestics had frequently seen the soldier who had courted Jane, and who was believed to be Bernard Gore. Durham, on the authority of Bernard, did not believe this, but he waited his time before contradicting the evidence.

After Groom came a doctor, who deposed to having examined the body, and gave it as his opinion that the deceased had been strangled some time after ten o'clock. Before being strangled he had been rendered unconscious by chloroform, thus had fallen an easy victim to the assassin. Mention was made of the bandana handkerchief with which the strangulation had been effected, and it was produced in court; but the handkerchief steeped in chloroform which had been bound round the mouth was missing. It was a white one according to the evidence of the housekeeper, and had been loosened from the mouth by Bernard himself when she brought him up to look on his victim. Groom expressed annoyance at this, as the handkerchief was an important piece of evidence. Being white it could not have belonged to the deceased, who used only colored bandana handkerchiefs. Therefore it was probable that the assassin had used his own, and the name on the corner would have settled the question beyond doubt. But the handkerchief was lost, and there was no more to be said. Groom hoped to prove Gore's guilt by the evidence of his other witnesses.

Julius Beryl deposed that Bernard and Sir Simon were at variance, and Mrs. Gilroy gave evidence about the quarrel which had taken place at the Hall when the young man had been turned away. She swore that Bernard then made use of threatening language and had hinted he would throw his grandfather out of the window. She also explained the cause of the quarrel and the name of Alice was mentioned, much to the wrath of Miss Plantagenet. Afterwards the housekeeper went on to state that Bernard had visited in Crimea Square. She had never seen him, as he was always smuggled out of sight by Jane when she was heard approaching the kitchen. But on the night of the murder Gore had presented himself at the door after ten o'clock and had intimated that Sir Simon desired to see him, having sent down a message to the kitchen to that effect.

Coroner: "Who carried the message?"

Mrs. Gilroy: "The page, William. Mr. Gore was alarmed and left the house at once, refusing to come up. Afterwards he had apparently changed his mind, for he came to the door. I took him up to Sir Simon and left them alone."

Coroner: "Did you see the meeting?"

Mrs. Gilroy: "No. I pushed Mr. Gore into the room then went down to wait. But I think Sir Simon was disposed to be friendly. Mr. Gore remained upstairs for about fifteen minutes, then left the house hurriedly. I saw him go out of the door. I called after him. He did not answer. I then ran upstairs, and found Sir Simon dead. I came down again and ran out in pursuit of Mr. Gore, crying out, 'Murder!' He was almost on the doorstep and came into the house with me. He denied that he had killed his grandfather and loosened the two handkerchiefs. Then the police came and he escaped."

She persisted in her statements, and said calmly that young Gore had certainly killed the old man. At the interview at the Hall, she had heard him use the word "strangle," and Sir Simon had been murdered in that way.

Lucy Randolph also gave evidence as to the quarrel. "Bernard had a fiery temper," she said, weeping, "and when Sir Simon spoke badly of Miss Malleson, he threatened to throw Sir Simon out of the window. I did not hear him use the word strangle. I never saw him when he came to the kitchen at Crimea Square, and it was only two days before the murder that Mrs. Gilroy recognized him by the description given by the housemaid. I am quite friendly with Bernard."

This evidence led to that of Jane, the housemaid. She was shown a photograph of Gore and swore positively that it was the face of the young soldier who had courted her. Before Sir Simon came to Crimea Square she had met him in the Park. He was in the uniform of the newly-formed Imperial Yeomanry. He made love to her, and asked if he might come to the house. He also seemed to be very inquisitive about Sir Simon. He came many times, and was introduced to the cook. Also William, the page, saw him. He called himself Bernard, nothing more, and did not make use of his name of Gore. Whenever Mrs. Gilroy was heard coming he always hid himself. He seemed afraid to meet her. Both witness and cook connived at the concealment as they feared the rebuke of the housekeeper. On the night of the crime a message came from Sir Simon by the page, William, asking Bernard to step upstairs. He displayed great alarm, and went away at once, saying he might return to see Sir Simon after ten. Witness gave other evidence, but the important point was, that she identified the photograph as that of Bernard Gore. Also the name was the same.

The cook and the page also identified the photograph as that of Mr. Gore. Evidence was then given by an officer of the Imperial Yeomanry as to Gore calling himself Bernard alone. He was known as Corporal Bernard. On the night of the murder he had obtained leave of absence to dine with a friend and had left the barracks before five. It was between five and six, according to the cook, that Bernard was in the kitchen. Bernard, added the officer, was not expected back till close on midnight. Since then nothing had been heard of him.

Durham then stepped into the box and stated that Gore had dined with him at his house on Camden Hill. There was another mutual friend present. Bernard had arrived at seven at the house and had left it at ten o'clock. Witness produced Sir Simon's letter stating that Gore was courting the housemaid Jane. But Durham swore that Bernard had denied this, and said that he had not been near the house. "Indeed," added the witness, "he did not know the whereabouts of the house till I told him."

Coroner: "Then he must have gone from your house direct to Crimea Square."

Durham: "I can't understand why he should do so. He had no intention of going, and certainly he had no idea of killing Sir Simon. I am quite convinced that he is innocent."

This expression produced incredulous smiles, as by this time everyone present was certain that Gore was the culprit. Thanks to Durham's representations Dick West (alias Lord Conniston) was not called. It is needless to say that the real name of this witness was not known. Had it been public the Coroner would have doubtless insisted on his production, if only to swell the scandal of the case by the addition of a title.

In summing up the Coroner was quite on the side of the prosecution and public opinion was with him. He pointed out that the evidence of the cook, the housemaid, the page and the officer all showed that Bernard Gore and Corporal Bernard were one and the same. Also there was the evidence of Mrs. Gilroy, who opened the door at ten o'clock to the man himself. Without doubt Gore was the person who had called to see his grandfather. As to the motive for the commission of the crime, the jury could see for themselves that there was a strong one. Mr. Beryl's evidence showed that a bitter quarrel existed, and this was confirmed both by Miss Randolph and Mrs. Gilroy. Even the word "strangled" had been used, and in that way Sir Simon had met with his death. Without doubt Gore, furious at being disinherited, had called to see Sir Simon, to see if he could be reinstated. Doubtless, as both had fiery tempers, a quarrel had taken place, and then the younger man, having rendered the older one unconscious by means of chloroform, had murdered him. It was certainly inexplicable that he should have returned to the house, but then the jury must take into consideration that perhaps Gore thought such a bold course might prove his innocence. Finally, his escape showed that he was guilty, as had he been an innocent man, he would have faced the matter out. It would seem that the criminal was dead. He had fallen into the hands of God, and thus had not escaped punishment. But on the facts before them the jury would have to give their verdict.

Biased both by the evidence and by the Coroner's speech, the jury brought in a verdict of guilty against Bernard Gore. Durham expected the verdict and so did Miss Plantagenet, but both of them, being Bernard's firm friends, felt a pang when they heard him thus condemned of wilful murder.

"Fools," said Miss Berengaria, as she drove back in her brougham with Durham to the office of the lawyer.

"I don't think that," expostulated Durham. "Under the circumstances the jury could hardly bring in a different verdict."

"You know that Bernard is innocent," snapped the lady.

"Certainly! But on the evidence before them—"

"A fig for the evidence!" interrupted Miss Berengaria. "I go by my own knowledge of the boy. He wouldn't kill a fly."

"Ah! But you see, the men on the jury never met Bernard."

Finding the lawyer too strong for her, Miss Berengaria changed the subject, being determined not to acknowledge defeat. "Have you heard from young Gore?" she asked.

"No. He may be drowned for all I know."

"For all you know, and you know nothing."

"More's the pity, Miss Plantagenet. Did I know anything I might be able to satisfy myself that Gore is alive."

"Of course he is alive."

"On what ground do you say that?" asked Durham, surprised.

"On the grounds of common sense. Bernard is not the man to die when his living is needed to prove his innocence."

This was so truly a feminine argument that Durham, with a shrug, held his tongue. "There's no more to be said," he remarked.

"I know that," snapped Miss Berengaria in a bad humor. "I am quite upset by all the rubbish those fools have been talking. What's to be done next?"

"I shall go down to Gore Hall and read the will."

"Ha!" said the old lady, brightly. "Can you do that until you are sure of the death of Bernard?"

"Yes. He may be dead after all—"

"He isn't, I tell you."

"Then it is all the better he should be thought to be so," said Durham, giving up the point in the face of this firm opposition.

"Why?" asked Miss Berengaria promptly.

"Because no search will be made for Gore should he be alive and in hiding. Yet I fear Beryl will search."

"I don't see why he should. Oh, I see what you mean. Sir Simon, the horrid old—Well, we'll say nothing about that. But he has left the money to Beryl, after disinheriting Bernard for keeping faith with my poor Alice."

"Not exactly that," said Durham, hesitating. "I can't tell you the contents of the will, Miss Plantagenet, as—"

"I know," she snapped. "You needn't tell me that. I'll come to the Hall and hear it read. But, of course, I know it already."

"In that case there's no more to be said," replied the solicitor, suppressing a smile. Miss Berengaria saw it.

"Ha!" said she, sharply and pondering. "So Bernard's not disinherited after all."

"I never said so."

"You smiled. That's quite enough for me. 'A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse.' Not that I'm a horse or blind. Thank God I have my eyesight and can read print with glasses. Well, keep your professional secrets, but tell me this: Will Beryl—the deuce take him—hunt for Bernard?"

"Not if he thinks he is drowned, as is probable," said Durham, rather surprised at hearing strong language from the lips of the lady.

"And if he thinks otherwise?"

"He will certainly hunt," replied the lawyer determinedly.

"Ha!" said Miss Berengaria, rubbing her nose. "So that's it, is it?"

"What do you mean, Miss Plantagenet?"

"That Bernard has not been disinherited. That old scamp—no, we must talk better of him—that the good old man who is dead repented and left the money to his rightful heir. What a joke!" Miss Berengaria chuckled. "There! there!" she went on, catching Durham's eyes. "It's all right. You have told me nothing. I can guess. Well, well, we must wait till the will is read. Then we shall see what is to be done to prove Bernard's innocence."

"That will be a hard task," said Durham, with a sigh; then added, with some little hesitation, "Miss Plantagenet, should Beryl make advances to you in the way of friendship receive them."

"Hum," said the lady. "I detest the fellow."

"But for Bernard's sake—"

"What plan have you in your head?" she asked sharply and peering into his troubled face.

"None. But I think that after the reading of the will—"

Miss Plantagenet chuckled. "After the reading—well?"

"Beryl may make advances to you."

"I will receive them. But if he thinks I will tell him where Bernard is to be found he is mistaken."

"You don't know where he is, or if he is alive," said Durham, astonished to find how quickly she fathomed his thoughts.

"True enough. But I will know before many days are over my head. I quite expect that Bernard will communicate with Alice, and of course she will tell me. As Beryl will find that the money is left to—"

"I did not say that," interrupted Durham, quickly, as the brougham stopped at the office door.

"To Bernard," went on Miss Berengaria, coolly, "he will try and learn if he is dead or alive. If dead he will—no, I can't say what he will do as I don't know if the money, failing Bernard, is left to him. But if he thinks Bernard is alive he will hunt him down so as to get the money."

Durham stepped out of the brougham rather afraid of the old dame. She was so clever that she seemed to read his most secret thoughts. He was glad the drive was at an end, and held out his hand to say good-bye. To his surprise and vexation Miss Berengaria stepped out at his heels. "I'm coming in to talk," she said, and marched up the steps. "I go down to-night to Hurseton, and I want to arrange what is to be done. Not a word, young man. I am Bernard's friend and so are you. If we don't combine it's all up with the poor fool." Durham followed the energetic lady with a feeling of helplessness, not knowing very well how to get rid of her. And he had particular reasons for not having her in the office. Conniston was coming to see him, and a meeting between him and his aunt might be productive of trouble. Not that Miss Plantagenet was his aunt, as she was only a distant relative. But she always styled herself so, and would answer to no other term. Durham regretted that he had accepted the lady's offer to be driven to his office. But it was too late by this time, for Miss Berengaria was in the room. And in the room also sat Lord Conniston, now out of uniform, and looking much excited.

"Ha!" said Miss Plantagenet, not recognizing the young man, "and who is this?" She turned to Durham, who shot past her, making a sign of silence to his friend.

"A client of mine. Will you leave us for a moment, Conniston?"

The name slipped out before he was aware, and he could have stamped with vexation to see how quickly Miss Berengaria grasped the situation. With a grim smile she looked at the astonished young man. "So you are Dick," she said looking at him through a double eyeglass. "I haven't seen you since you made yourself sick in my garden. Bernard told Alice by letter that he met you. Where are you staying?"

"I don't understand," stammered Conniston, while Durham, giving up Miss Plantagenet as impossible, sat shuffling his papers.

"You ought not to be dense. Don't you remember me boxing your ears?"

Conniston burst out laughing. "Oh! by Jove! It's Cousin Berengaria."

"Aunt Berengaria," reproved Miss Plantagenet, giving him her hand. "I don't like league-long names. Come and sit down and tell me all about yourself."

"Miss Plantagenet," said Durham, hastily. "Lord Conniston and I have met to talk of Bernard."

"Then I'll form a third," said the old lady, sitting. "Dick—I shall call you Dick," she interpolated—"you are Bernard's friend, as his letter to Alice was all about you. Are you going to desert him?"

"No," said Conniston, taking her entirely into his confidence. "I have chucked the service to see him through his trouble."

"Chucked what service?"

"The army. I was going to the front. But I'll stop till I prove the innocence of Bernard, Aunt Berengaria."

"You don't know that he is alive, Conniston," said the lawyer.

"Ah, but I do," replied Dick. "Here's a letter from Bernard. He is safe and sound hiding at Cove Castle."