anthony looked apprehensively at clarice, as she read the anonymous letter, for he quite expected that she would be greatly agitated, and had been rather afraid of showing it to her, lest the shock of such an accusation brought against ferdy should be too great. but the girl was perfectly cool, and read the letter twice. after the second reading, she looked at her lover.

"it's a conspiracy," she said, calmly.

anthony was puzzled. "what do you mean by that?"

"someone wants to prevent our marriage," she explained; "and so this accusation has been brought against ferdy."

"i can see that. of course"--anthony looked anxiously at her again--"of course, the accusation is ridiculous."

"perfectly ridiculous!" replied clarice, quietly.

"and yet," hesitated the soldier, "would anyone bring forward such a direct accusation, unless she had evidence to go upon?"

clarice, who had been musing, looked up, "why do you say 'she?'"

ackworth pointed to the caligraphy of the letter, which lay on the table before them. "the handwriting is like that of a woman."

"men and women write exactly alike nowadays, my dear. besides, if a woman had written it, she certainly would have assumed even a more masculine style of writing."

"then you think that the letter was written by a man?"

"of course. can't you think of a man who desires to prevent our marriage?"

ackworth considered for one moment, and drew inspiration from her steadfast eyes. "dr. jerce," he said, suddenly.

"sir daniel jerce! give him his proper title!"

"what makes you think that?"

"several things. one is that sir daniel quoted the slip betwixt cup and lip proverb. in fact, he hinted, more in manner than words, that i should never become your wife."

"confounded cheek!" said anthony, seating himself--he had been standing hitherto. "what right has he to interfere?"

"the right of a man who is in love with a woman," said clarice.

"with an engaged woman," corrected anthony. "humph!" he took up the letter again. "do you really think----"

"i am certain of it."

"but a man in such a position--a great doctor--a famous medical man--surely would not----"

clarice again did not allow him to finish. "yes, he would, if he wanted his own way, as sir daniel jerce wants his. you see, anthony dear, that sir daniel had always gained his ends by force of will. he tried to dominate me, but i was too strong for him. naturally, he is irritated, and thus is ready to condescend to this"---she pointed to the letter--"in order to gain his ends."

"well, i'm hanged. but you can't be certain."

"i'll soon find out if i can be certain."

"in what way--by what means?"

"i'll ask sir daniel himself if he wrote the letter!"

"he will deny that he did," rejoined ackworth, quickly.

"you trust a woman to get at the truth, denial or no denial," said miss baird, coolly. "and there's another thing, anthony. ferdy is perfectly innocent."

"of course," hesitated the captain; "still, can you prove it?"

"very easily. ferdy came home drunk on the night the crime was committed. i locked him in his own room, and took the key to mine. he could not have got out, and did not, until i released him next morning--hours after the murder was perpetrated."

anthony nodded his satisfaction. "that settles the business. this letter is all bluff. anything more?"

clarice nodded in her turn. "ferdy was engaged to marry prudence clarke," she said.

"was engaged! is the engagement at an end?"

"yes. had you not come over, i should have sent for you. i saw prudence to-day, and she declines to marry ferdy."

"why, i thought she was in love with him."

"she was--she is. but zara, the dancer----"

"butterfly. yes, i know. go on."

"well, she called on prudence on the day my guardian was buried, and told her that if she married ferdy, mr. clarke would be accused of the murder."

"what rubbish. everyone knows that osip is guilty."

"quite so," said clarice, slowly; "but i am beginning to doubt that, anthony. i thought that there was no mystery about this crime, but from this letter and from the attitude of zara, i begin to think that there is."

"h'm!" from ackworth. "you believe that there is a conspiracy?"

"yes, i do, and sir daniel has to do with it. also zara. the man wants to marry me, and the woman to marry ferdy. but i had better tell you everything i have learned, so that you may be in a position to see things from your point of view."

anthony listened carefully, while clarice detailed her interview with prudence, and also related what clarke had said. "i am perfectly sure," she ended, firmly, "that there is some connection between zara and sir daniel."

"i don't see that, clarice--upon my word, i can't see it. zara evidently went on her own, so as to get ferdy to herself. sir daniel fried his own fish--if, indeed, that letter is written by him."

"i'll soon learn that," rejoined miss baird, putting the letter into the pocket of her dinner gown. "then, i have to tell you something about ferdy," and she related how the boy had attempted to bluff her, and how she had got the better of him.

"it seems to me," said ackworth, when she finished, "that ferdy is being made use of in some way."

"i am quite certain of that, and the crime is being used as a threat to make him do what he is told."

"by jerce?"

"or by zara. i grant that the whole thing is a mystery, although you and i can see the reasons for the actions of jerce and this dancer."

"marriage in both cases," said anthony, musingly. "but why not question ferdy?"

clarice's lip curled. "ferdy would only tell lies," she said, disdainfully. "no, i must learn what ferdy has to do with these matters in some way which will not arouse his suspicions. anthony"--she placed her hands on his shoulders--"you trust me?"

he placed his hands on hers--"dearest, what a question."

"well, then, i am going to do something very daring."

"what is it?" asked ackworth, anxiously.

"i can't tell you. i only ask you to trust me."

ackworth looked at her closely. "of course, i'll trust you."

"that is true love," said clarice, and kissed him. "now, in the first place, i shall write this night to sir daniel, and ask him to come and see me. then i can learn if indeed he wrote the letter which i have in my pocket. next--and this is your share of the plot i have in my head--you must ask ferdy down for a couple of days and nights to gattlinsands. he is always glad to stop with you."

"i'll do so willingly," said anthony; "but why do you want him out of the way?"

"you have answered your own question. i want him out of the way, because i want him out of the way."

"what do you mean?"

"i am mysterious, am i not? but in this case everything is now becoming extremely mysterious, and we must beat these people with their own weapons. i want to marry you; i want ferdy to marry prudence. to bring these things about i have to learn the meaning of these threats. when i know, then i can act."

"but what do you intend to do?" asked anthony, dubiously.

"you promised to trust me."

"yes, but--but don't be rash."

"dearest, am i ever rash?"

"no, you are a very level-headed girl, as i know. i'll trust you, only i hope you won't get into any difficulty."

"if i do, i'll send for you at once. now, when you get back to your quarters, write and ask ferdy down for to-morrow night and for the next night."

"i can ask him now. he's in the house."

"no, i want you to ask him by letter. write to him at sir daniel's."

anthony nodded. "very good. anything else?"

"yes. when ferdy leaves you--in a couple of days--go up to london, and to tea street, whitechapel."

"what for, clarice?"

"to find out all you can concerning the young man who died of consumption there--the man who was one of the purple fern murderers. i want to know his name, and all about him."

"what good will that do?"

"it may lead us to discover the whereabouts of osip. when we catch him, then we can be certain of his guilt, and both sir daniel and zara will be unable to accuse ferdy or mr. clarke. do you see?"

"in a way. and yet----"

"no, don't raise objections, or ask questions. i know exactly how to act. when you learn what i want you to learn, come here and tell it to me. in the meantime, i'll be searching on my own account."

"not in whitechapel i hope," said anthony, quickly.

"no, i am sending you to whitechapel," she laughed. "do you know, my dear boy, i am quite enjoying this excitement. it gives me something to do, and i love a life of action."

she looked so brilliant, and her eyes were so bright, that anthony did what any lover would have done under the like circumstances. he took her in his arms and kissed her. then, as it was growing late, clarice insisted that he should go, and escorted him to the door.

ferdy was conversing with anthony's brother officer, who had brought over the car; and, of course, the amateur chauffeur was introduced to miss baird. she chatted so gaily for a few minutes that anthony could not believe she had anything on her mind. yet he knew very well that she was extremely anxious, and was nerving herself to face her enemies. finally, he insisted that she should go indoors, as the night was chilly, and the car surged off down the lane, with the buzz of an angry bee. clarice stood on the steps and watched it vanish. then she went inside and spoke to ferdy.

"i want you to take a letter to sir daniel to-morrow for me," she said, going to her desk. "when do you start in the morning?"

"by the eight fifty-five. i'll be in town by ten, or a trifle later. why are you writing?"

"i want sir daniel to come down, as i wish to speak with him about business connected with the estate."

"what business?" asked ferdy, persistently.

"oh, nothing particular," said clarice, airily; "it has to do with a ring which poor uncle henry wished me to give the doctor. aha-a-a!" she shivered--"i believe that i have caught cold."

she had indeed, for the next morning ferdy had to go to her bedroom to receive the letter for jerce, as clarice did not get up. her eyes were brilliant, her cheeks vividly red, and her voice was somewhat hoarse. ferdy guessed that she had caught cold from standing in the porch on the previous night, and declined to kiss her when he went, in case he should suffer also. that was ferdy all over--he never ran the chance of getting into trouble, if it was not likely to benefit himself. clarice sighed when he departed, and then laughed. sad as she was at ferdy's selfishness, the thought of her plot cheered her up. the boy--as she was resolved--should be saved from zara dumps in spite of himself.

sir daniel was extremely astonished to receive clarice's note asking him to come down, and his elderly heart beat rapidly, as he reflected that she had called him back. he had told her that he would not see her again, unless she asked him to come, and here the very message, for which he had longed, was in his hand. he went down to crumel by the midday train, and shortly arrived at the laurels. here he found clarice up and dressed, and seated in the drawing-room, looking very unwell. she occupied a large chair near the fire, and was enveloped in a multiplicity of wraps to keep her from shivering. when sir daniel entered, she did not rise or offer him her hand.

"i might give you my cold," said clarice, hoarsely.

"dear, dear! you are very sick," remarked jerce, quite at his ease in the presence of ill-health. "how did you get this cold?"

"i was standing in the porch last night, talking to anthony."

jerce bit his lip as she mentioned the name, and stretched out his hand. "let me feel your pulse."

clarice kept her hands under the shawl. "no; i have asked you to come for another reason than to prescribe for me. also, i have taken some simple remedies, and will be well in a few days."

"still----"

"no, i can't ask the famous sir daniel jerce to attend to a trifling case like mine."

"since the famous sir daniel is here," observed the doctor, good-humouredly, "he may as well exercise his profession. and you know," he added, earnestly, "i would do anything for you, even though you have treated me so cruelly."

"you will persist in saying that," cried clarice, petulantly, "when you know that i never loved you; that i never gave you any encouragement, and that you have no reason to blame me in any way. if you have come here to make yourself disagreeable----"

"i have come because you sent for me," said jerce, calmly; "and, if you remember, i said that i would never see you again unless you did send for me."

"oh! and i suppose you thought that my invitation meant that i had changed my mind about marrying anthony?"

"i did hope that," said sir daniel, plainly, "as i can conceive no other reason why you should ask me down; unless," he added, with some bitterness, "you wish to torture me."

"your own conscience should do that, sir daniel."

"my own conscience? i don't understand you, miss baird."

"think again. you hinted that i should never marry anthony."

"i did," rejoined jerce, steadily, "and i hope you won't."

"why not?"

"because i wish to marry you myself."

"i see." clarice drew the anonymous letter from her pocket, and placed it in his hand; "and to gain your ends you are willing to go to these lengths?"

the doctor read the few lines gravely, and then handed back the letter. "still i don't understand."

"yes, you do, sir daniel. you wrote that letter."

jerce sprang to his feet with an agility astonishing in so stout a man. "you insult me," he said, with cold, suppressed fury.

"have i not reason to," she flashed out, "when you seek to prevent my marriage by accusing ferdy, of murder?"

"i did not accuse him; i never wrote that letter; it is not in my handwriting; it is not written on my own stationery."

"of course not. you would have signed your name if it had been."

"did you ask me down to accuse me of this?" asked sir daniel, contemptuously. "yes, i did, and i tell you that your plot will fail, as ferdy is perfectly innocent."

"i never said that he was guilty."

"that letter--"

"i did not write that letter." clarice looked at him steadily. his face was calm, his nerves were unshaken. either she had failed to take him unawares with her abrupt accusation, or the man was innocent. "if i have made a mistake i ask your pardon," she said, quietly, "but you have read the letter?"

"just this moment. i never set eyes on it before."

"what do you think of the accusation?"

"i don't know what to think," said jerce, coolly.

"oh! then you believe that the writer--if not yourself--has certain grounds upon which to accuse my brother of murder?"

"i don't know the writer and i don't know the grounds. any other man would have lost his temper at the insult you have offered. but being in love with you, i forgive your unfair suspicions. still, in justice to myself, i shall take my leave, as i cannot inflict upon you the company of a man of whom you think so meanly."

"one moment," said clarice, who could not tell if he was really innocent, or if he was acting a part. "what would you do about the letter if you were me?"

"i should obey the writer," said jerce, promptly.

"ah! then you have an interest in stopping my marriage?"

"i have. i would do anything in my power to break off your engagement with ackworth."

"so that i could marry you?"

"precisely."

"i believe you wrote the letter, after all," said clarice, between her clenched teeth. "i defy you to look me in the face and deny it."

"i do look you in the face, and i do deny it," said jerce, coldly; "but the writer of that letter has done me a good turn, and i thank him."

"how do you know it is a man?"

sir daniel shrugged his shoulders. "i don't know; i only surmise."

"surmise what?"

"that a man wrote it."

"why not a woman?" sneered clarice.

"why not, indeed. you know as much about the matter as i do."

beaten by his imperturbability, the girl adopted another mode of attack. "why should ferdy be accused?"

"i don't know, unless it is that ferdy lives a wild life, as i told you, and would do much for money."

"for money? what do you mean?"

"i mean that the forty thousand pounds is yet unaccounted for."

"oh, and ferdy murdered uncle henry for that money?"

"the writer accuses him of the crime," said jerce, quietly. "i am not prepared to endorse the accusation, as i know nothing."

"but i know," cried clarice, vehemently. "ferdy was locked in his room by me on the night of the crime, because he had been taking too much to drink."

"you had better answer this letter and say so," retorted jerce.

"to whom should i write--to what address?"

"i can't say," he answered, steadily, "but you will be wise if you break off your engagement with captain ackworth. ferdinand may be innocent in one way, and yet guilty in another."

"explain."

"he may be an accomplice after the fact."

"doctor," cried clarice, rising quickly, "you know something."

"i know nothing, save that ferdy lives a wild and fast life, and is of an undisciplined nature." he walked to the door. "i take my leave with a last warning. obey that anonymous note, and give up ackworth, or else--"

"or else?" questioned clarice, eagerly.

"or else ferdinand may be hanged."