Nevertheless, and in spite of the guinea, in spite even of the
eyeglass there in my hand, I could not bring myself to believe.
What? Captain Branscome, the simple-minded, the heroic? Captain
Branscome, of the threadbare coat and the sword of honour? Poor he
was, no doubt--bitterly poor--poor almost to starvation at times.
To what might not a man be driven by poverty in this degree?
And here was evidence for judge and jury.

I glanced around me, and, folding the eyeglasses together in a
fumbling haste, slipped them into my breeches-pocket. From my seat
beneath the flagstaff I looked straight into the doorway of the
summer-house; but a creeper obscured its rustic window, dimming the
light within; and a terror seized me that some one was concealed
there, watching me--a terror not unlike that which had held me in
Captain Coffin's lodgings.

While I stood there, summoning up courage to invade the summer-house
and make sure, my brain harked back to Captain Coffin and the man
Aaron Glass. Captain Coffin had taken leave of me in a fever to
reach Minden Cottage. That was close on sixty hours ago--three
nights and two days. Why, in that ample time, had he not arrived,
and what had become of him? Plinny had seen no such man.

I fetched a tight grip on my courage, walked across to the doorway,
and peered into the summer-house. It was empty, and I stepped
inside--superstitiously avoiding, as I did so, to tread on the spot
where my father's body had lain.

Ann the cook--so Plinny told me--had found his chair overset behind
him, but no other sign of a struggle. He had been stabbed in front,