sir daniel looked surprised when he heard clarice's remark, and glanced from her to ferdy. he saw that both brother and sister were white and troubled, but, feeling absolutely safe, he never ascribed their emotion to anything connected with himself. advancing to the fire, he warmed his hands, and smiled more blandly than ever. "i should think you should know me by this time, miss baird," he said, cheerfully. "wet weather, isn't it?"

clarice said nothing, and ferdy evaded the eye of jerce, while anthony, having put jane out into the garden, returned and closed the drawing-room door. considering what was to be said, it was best, as he thought, to keep the conversation as private as possible. the doctor also noted that ackworth looked stern and white. by this time, he showed a slight uneasiness, as trouble was too palpably in the air for him to ignore it. perhaps some thought of betrayal crossed his mind, for he suddenly looked apprehensively at young baird. ferdy dodged his eye again, and the doctor, to break an oppressive silence, made an uneasy joke.

"you are all very quiet," said he, smiling in a wry way. "is it because i have forgotten my manners, and have not shaken hands? i ask all your pardons, and will do so now, miss baird."

"no," said clarice, putting her hands behind her back, "and i wonder that you have the assurance even to speak to me."

"considering that you asked me down, that is a strange speech," said jerce, frowning, and losing his suave looks. "i thought that you were satisfied with my assurance that i never wrote that anonymous letter of which you complained?"

"i know that you did not write it."

"in that case, i shall be glad to know why you greet me in this way?" said jerce, in icy tones. "is it that captain ackworth is angry with me because i dared to love you?"

"no," said anthony, in his turn, "and to save you further surmises as to what is the matter, allow me to inform you, dr. jerce--"

"sir daniel, if you please," interrupted the other, his large face becoming watchful and cunning; "give me my proper title."

"i can do that," said clarice, who was restraining her wrath with great difficulty, "you are a scoundrel."

"indeed," said jerce, blanching and wincing, but maintaining his composure in a most wonderful manner, considering the provocation. "i regret that you should call an old friend by so harsh a name."

"an old friend who plotted the death of--"

"it's a lie," broke in jerce, with a sudden flash of rage. "i never intended horran any harm."

"by your own mouth you are condemned," said anthony, quickly. "miss baird never mentioned names. why should you think that she meant mr. horran, i ask you?"

"because horran is dead, and death was mentioned," said jerce, striving to extricate himself from the difficulty. "perhaps you will explain why i have been asked here to be insulted?"

"would you rather that the police insulted you?" asked anthony, coldly.

"you speak in riddles, captain ackworth."

"i think you can answer them, sir daniel."

"i fear that i cannot," rejoined jerce, shrugging.

but with all his calmness, an air of fear pervaded his whole bearing, and his cold eyes glanced uneasily from one person to another. "will you explain the meaning of all this, ferdinand?" he said, addressing himself to the one person in the room who had not yet spoken.

"i have explained," said ferdy, half afraid and half defiantly; "they know everything."

"concerning what?" asked jerce, wincing again, but still self-controlled.

"clarice and anthony know the whole business," cried the young man, his voice loud and angry, as he strove to assert himself in the presence of the man he so greatly feared. "i have told them how you got the purple fern stamp, and how you tried to make me kill uncle henry. there! you can say what you like now."

sir daniel's nostrils dilated, and his eyes grew hard. "you are talking nonsense, i think," he said, perfectly calmly.

"nonsense!" stormed ferdy, quailing under those stern eyes. "it is not nonsense, and you know it. i have had quite enough of being bullied by you, jerce"--he did not pay him the compliment of a respectful use of the great man's title. "you have been my master too long. it is my turn now. and who are you to dictate to me?--you, who lead a fast life, who squander money, who play fast and loose with women of the worst--"

"stop!" cried jerce, so loudly that the young man's voice died away. "remember that your sister is present. my character is high enough to need no denial to the charges you bring against it. the king does not honour men such as you have described, with knighthoods."

"ah, you have always been clever enough to keep things dark," said ferdy, bitterly. "but i overheard you talking to barras. i know that you were in league with him to cheat uncle henry out of our money, and the forty thousand pounds went into--"

"you lie--you lie," interrupted the doctor, losing his temper, and a perspiration broke out on his high bald forehead. "you know that you lie. you can't prove a word you say."

"barras can, and barras will."

"barras will not. send for barras now. i appeal to you, miss baird. i appeal to you, captain ackworth. my character is at stake. i demand that you telegraph to london for barras, that he may be confronted with this young liar. i am not afraid to face the truth."

the doctor spoke so bravely and so fiercely that for the moment anthony and clarice wavered in their belief of ferdy's story. they knew well that ferdy was a supreme liar, and, on the face of it, sir daniel jerce's character had always been above reproach. the doctor saw that he had made an impression, and followed up his advantage, swiftly and vehemently.

"that ferdinand should accuse me is no surprise," he went on, in a ringing voice. "i have done so much for him, that it is natural he should be ungrateful. i have always found that those i have helped have been my worst enemies. ferdinand is indebted to me for money, for advice, for education, and for liberty."

"for liberty?" echoed clarice, drawing near to the speaker.

"yes! that young whelp received a cheque from me for twenty pounds as a loan. he altered the figures and the writing to two hundred pounds with a cleverness which would have done credit to an accomplished forger. i could have put him in gaol. but i forgave him, and this ingratitude is my reward."

"one moment, ferdy," said clarice, checking her brother's speech with a gesture, "where is the forged cheque, sir daniel?"

jerce was taken aback. "i gave it to ferdinand," he said, sullenly.

"you did, when you could have used it to stop his evil doings?"

"i wished to give him another chance of reforming," protested jerce.

"you liar!" shouted ferdy, beside himself with rage. "you gave me the cheque after i had stamped uncle henry's dead body with the purple fern according to your directions."

"yes," said jerce, rashly losing his self-control, "and after you had murdered your guardian."

"i did not! i did not!"

"on what grounds do you base this accusation, jerce?" asked ackworth.

"on the grounds that felix exton, the young man who died in tea street, whitechapel, gave me the stamp of the purple fern----"

"you never said that before."

"there was no need. i never said so, because ferdinand stole the stamp from me, and i thought that he might make use of it. horran was angry with him, and ferdinand wished to get rid of him, thinking that he would then come into the money. i base my accusation upon the fact that the purple fern was stamped on my poor friend's forehead, and only ferdinand, who possessed the stamp, could have done that. for your sake, miss baird, i have held my peace, cruelly though you have treated me; but now, when ferdinand seeks to throw the blame of his wickedness on me, i must speak out, to protect myself. if need be i shall go to the police, and tell all that i know. i am not a man to be defied with impunity."

the clever turn which the doctor gave to ferdy's story startled clarice, as she saw how dangerous the man was, and to what lengths he was prepared to go to save his own skin. "you had the gold box," she said, rather weakly.

"pardon me. osip dropped that when he searched me."

"he denies that. he said that you had the box, for which he was looking, and threw it away."

"osip says that--and how comes it that you have seen osip?"

"i saw him by appointment at the shah's rooms last night," said clarice, boldly; "and there i also saw you and mr. barras."

"what of that?" said jerce, coolly. "i have a right to go to any place i choose, i should hope. so you saw osip, and you did not have him arrested for the murder of your guardian."

"you forget," said anthony, swiftly, "you have just accused ferdinand of that crime, sir daniel."

"and i do still. ferdinand is osip's accomplice. both of them are concerned in the matter. and i am accused falsely. there is no one can prove that i am guilty in any way."

a knock came to the door, and mrs. rebson made her appearance. "will you please to come out here, miss?" she said, "there is a gentleman wants to see you."

sir daniel wriggled uneasily, and went a shade whiter. but he still maintained his defiant attitude; while clarice, wondering who had come to visit her, and anticipating fresh trouble with a sinking heart, went into the hall, closing the drawing-room door after her. here she found mr. clarke, looking more wild and wan than ever, and very much agitated. on seeing her, he came up at once, while mrs. rebson discreetly withdrew to her own room.

"is it true that sir daniel jerce is here?" asked clarke, abruptly.

"yes, i sent for him to clear up things. why did you not come in?"

"i don't wish to see sir daniel," said clarke, nervously; "he has behaved very badly to me. he threatened to tell about something connected with a--a--a--a relative," ended clarke, evasively.

clarice knew as well as if he had spoken openly that the vicar referred to his scapegoat son. however, it was not her aim to frighten clarke away by pretending to know too much, so she merely picked up some newly arrived letters from the hall table, as she replied, "you must come in and face sir daniel jerce," she said quietly; "we are bringing him to book."

"bringing him to book. what do you mean?"

"go in and you'll hear," said clarice, and was about to usher the vicar into the room, when she caught sight of the writing on one of the letters. "go in--go in," she said, hurriedly. "i'll follow shortly."

rather perplexed, and not at all anxious to face jerce, the vicar approached the drawing-room door with hesitating steps. there he glanced back, and saw clarice hurriedly reading a letter, with a white face and an agitated manner. for the moment, he was inclined to return, but gathering his courage together, he boldly opened the door, and saw sir daniel jerce, facing ferdy, defiantly.

"you can say what you like," were the words which struck the parson's ear, "but you know that i am as innocent of horran's death as you are guilty. you stabbed him, you----"

"no!" cried clarke, coming forward rapidly. "what do you mean, sir daniel, by accusing this young man of such a crime?"

jerce wheeled, and his eyes flashed when he beheld clarke. the vicar had quite thrown aside his nervous, hesitating manner, and with an unflinching face he looked at the great doctor. anthony, anticipating some fresh revelation, rose from his seat, while ferdy stared open-mouthed at prudence's father. he had never seen the vicar look so bold.

"i accuse him," said jerce, with a snarl, and keeping his hard eyes firmly on the weak face of the parson, "because he is guilty."

"not of murder. i swear not of murder."

"there, you see," cried ferdy, triumphantly. "i never killed uncle henry."

"you did!" said jerce, fiercely. "i defy clarke to contradict me."

"i do contradict you."

"remember, clarke, what i know, said jerce, menacingly.

"know," said the vicar, despairingly, "yes, you know, and you have made use of what you know to make me act unjustly towards ferdinand. i should have had him for a son-in-law but for you, and my poor girl would have been happy. i held my peace, because you threatened to expose my unhappy son's guilt. but i shall do so no longer. i refuse to stand by and see ferdinand accused of murder."

"your own son is a murderer," said jerce, savagely.

"ah," said anthony, significantly, "so you knew that."

"he knew it, and he threatened me with it. he wanted to let all the world know that felix exton was frank clarke," cried the vicar, "and i--for my daughter's sake--held my peace."

"about what?" asked anthony, quickly.

"take care, clarke--take care," said jerce, despairingly.

"i take care no longer," said the parson, fiercely; "i have told my son's shame here, and if necessary i shall tell it to all the world, rather than let ferdinand suffer unjustly. he did not murder horran."

"then who did?" asked clarice, entering swiftly, and standing with her back to the door.

clarke pointed to the doctor. "sir daniel jerce."

"you liar!" foamed the accused man.

"i saw you in your motor coming along by the common during my midnight walk," said clarke, rapidly. "i saw you hide the motor in the woods. i followed you secretly to the house. you entered by the window, and i stole up to see you kill horran with the assegai, which you tore from the wall. you fled, and i ran after you. i caught you in the lane, near the wood, and accused you. then you told me that frank was a murderer--one of the purple fern gang--and swore to denounce him, dead though he was, unless i held my peace. i did so--yes, god help me--i did so, and concealed your wickedness to save the good name of my dead son. while osip was accused, i still held my peace, for another murder set down to him mattered little. but now that you accuse ferdinand, i say boldly, and i will say it to the police, that you and none other murdered henry horran."

"it's false," gasped jerce, quailing and shrinking, and looking towards the window, as though anxious to escape.

"it is true. after i left you, i went back to the room----"

"that was when i was under the bed," said ferdy, quickly.

"were you? i did not know; but you are innocent, my poor boy. i arranged the bedclothes, and then returned home. zara dumps accused me and i said nothing, although i knew the truth. but there stands the murderer," he pointed to jerce, who trembled; "go for the police."

"no! no!" cried sir daniel, ghastly white. "let me go. i promise to destroy myself. anything rather than public shame."

"i'll have you in gaol to-night," said ferdy, triumphantly.

"take care!" snarled jerce. "if i killed horran, you stamped the fern on the forehead of the dead. i'll swear that you were my accomplice."

"clarice," cried ferdy, gasping with fear, "you hear."

"i hear, and i know how to act," said clarice, calm and white. "anthony, have you pen and ink and paper? there they are," she indicated a rosewood desk in the corner of the drawing-room. "sit down and write what sir daniel says."

"what would you do?" asked ackworth, obeying her.

"i would save ferdy."

"and hang jerce," cried ferdy, viciously.

"hold your tongue," cried his sister, harshly; "sir daniel," she added, turning towards the miserable doctor, "if you will confess your crime, and sign the confession, you shall leave this house free."

"no! no! no!" cried anthony, from the desk, "you are wrong."

"i am right," insisted the girl; "with such a confession, we are safe. ferdy will say nothing, neither will mr. clarke."

"i shall hold my tongue, so long as ferdinand is not arrested for a crime he never committed," said the parson, "and so long as frank's good name is saved. frank was an evil man, but he was also my son."

"confess, then," said clarice to jerce.

he wiped his brow and accepted the situation without argument. it was impossible for him to face the direct evidence of clarke. "i thank you for the chance of escape," he said to the girl, quietly, "and i promise you that to-night i shall die. i will not live to run the risk of being hanged. write, captain ackworth, and i shall sign."

anthony dipped the pen into the ink, and waited. ferdy sat down. mr. clarke leaned against the wall, listening intently, and clarice, determined not to let jerce go until the confession was signed, stood with her back to the door. sir daniel cast a glance around, and, composing himself with a mighty effort, which showed the strong nature of the man, he began to speak quietly:

"i did murder horran," he said, slowly, "and for two reasons. one was that i wished to learn the nature of the disease which he suffered from, and that could only be made plain by a post-mortem examination. the other, and more ignoble motive, was that i was in league with barras to get money out of him."

"then you had the forty thousand pounds?" inquired clarice, quickly.

"and more," answered the doctor, coolly. "i have a double nature--a jekyl and hyde nature, as in stevenson's wonderful story. as sir daniel jerce, i have won my position by brain power and hard work, and am a philanthropist and a reasonable man. but as daniel jerce, the creature, i am devoured by passions, and am capable of lowering myself to the level of the beasts. my life in harley street was, and is, above reproach--but my other life----"

"oh!" cried clarice, with sudden horror. "ferdy has told us something of that. say no more--it's too terrible."

jerce bowed. "you have been so kind, miss baird, that your wish is my law," he said, politely. "well, then, for my secret life. i required money. i made much, and spent it, and i wanted more. horran, being only your guardian and not having money of his own, was too honest to help me. barras came to me, years and years ago, to be cured of a disease. i did cure him, and he was grateful. he lent me his own money for a time, but i still wanted more. then he lent me some that belonged to the estate, when i was in difficulties, and he lent it out of sheer gratitude to me. don't blame barras, miss baird. he was as good a man as was henry horran. but to make a long story short, from the moment barras tampered with the trust money, he was in my power, and i threatened to tell horran unless i received more."

"blackmail," muttered anthony, with disgust, and swiftly writing.

"yes, i told you that the jekyl side of my character was unpleasant, captain ackworth. well, then, barras cooked the accounts----"

"i thought so--i said so," muttered clarice.

"then you are very clever," said jerce, calmly, "for barras managed to conceal things in a wonderful way. of course, when horran became ill, and gave barras a power of attorney, it was easier to deceive him. and barras also deceived you, miss baird, clever as you thought you were. your ignorance of business helped him."

"i quite understand," said clarice, coldly; "a girl such as i am, was unequal to such clever scoundrels. you got the money."

"and i spent it," said jerce, coolly; "forty thousand pounds. barras gave me the money as it came in, and used some himself. he made up the story about giving it to horran in gold----"

"so that we might be deceived," interposed miss baird. "well, we were."

"oh, don't blame yourself," said jerce, in a jeering manner; "barras would have cheated a much more clever person than you are, miss baird, with the facilities at his command--horran's illness, the power of attorney--no one to interfere, and all the rest of it."

"spare me more details, sir daniel. you got the forty thousand pounds and spent it. then you determined to kill uncle henry."

"i did, because he was getting dangerous. barras, according to horran's wish, had given clarke here one thousand pounds--but on his own account he charged ten per cent. clarke tried to see horran, but to keep back that fact i used my medical power as horran's physician to prevent an interview."

"but i did see him at length," said the vicar, triumphantly.

"yes," snapped jerce, "and so sealed horran's death warrant. do you remember on the day preceding the murder that i had an interview with horran?" he asked, turning to clarice.

"yes, and you said that uncle henry was angry with ferdy."

"he was angry with barras, and declared that he would get the accounts looked into by a clever city man. i knew that was fatal. barras and i could deceive horran and you, but we couldn't hope to deceive this accountant who was mentioned. i then determined to prevent the exposure by murdering horran."

"you villain!" cried clarice, shuddering. "your old friend."

"he would have been my new enemy had he learned the truth about the accounts," said jerce, cynically. "however, we must get on," he looked at his watch, "it is getting late. well, then i went up to town, having arranged with ferdinand here, that he should kill horran and stamp his forehead with the purple fern. i need not tell you how i got that, miss baird."

"i know," she replied, with horror. "but were you arranging a deliberate murder with my brother, when anthony and i saw you walking to the station?"

"yes. you were driving, i believe. ferdinand agreed to kill----"

"i did," interrupted ferdy, quickly, "but i intended to tell uncle henry everything. i never intended murder."

"so i thought," said jerce, with a shrug; "you are such a weak fool that i fancied you would flinch at the last moment. that was why i came down during the night. i pretended to go to whitechapel, and did not take my chauffeur, which was often the case. no suspicion was thus aroused in harley street as to my destination. i motored down to crumel in a little over two hours, and acted in the way clarke here has told you."

"but the murder?"

"i expected to find horran dead," said jerce, "and yet, knowing what a weak fool this boy is, i feared lest he should fail. i entered by the window, which that ass of a wentworth had ordered to be opened, as i knew he would, and horran raised himself in bed. he recognised me, and, unable to explain my intrusion, i caught an assegai from the wall and stabbed him to the heart. he cried out, but only feebly. then i ran away and clarke caught me. i kept him quiet by saying that i would tell about frank. afterwards, i motored back to town in another two hours and a trifle more, and regained my house in safety."

"oh, you villain!" said clarice again, striking her hands together.

"next day, as you know, i came down and played my part in the comedy, miss baird. i saw the mark of the purple fern, and ferdinand here told me how he had stamped the dead body. i gave him back my cheque, and so acted honourably. so that is all, unless," added jerce, with hesitation, "my love for you--my true and genuine love----"

"oh, no, no," cried clarice, with horror, and ran across to anthony; "have you got it written down? then let that wretch sign it, and send him out of the house."

"but the police ought to be told," said ackworth, in a low voice.

"i say no," cried clarice, stamping her foot. "i will tell you why at a later period. sign, sir daniel, sign, and rid this house of your wicked presence."

jerce looked at her gravely, then deliberately signed the paper on the spot pointed out by ackworth. anthony and clarke signed as witnesses, and then the soldier handed the paper to clarice, who thrust it into her bosom. this having been done, she went to the window and opened it. "go!" she said to sir daniel.

"surely, you will let me get my coat and hat," he said, quietly, and, with a last look at her, he went into the hall. shortly he appeared at the door again. "good-bye for ever," he said, in an unemotional voice. "i'll go this way--by the front door. and to-morrow you shall hear of my death."

"unhappy man!" cried clarke. "do not add sin to sin----" but jerce was gone. he went out of the house, and into the gathering darkness of the night--but not to the merciful death he designed for himself. as he passed through the gate, jane limped after him quietly, not barking as was her custom. she seemed to know that her time had come. and so jerce, all unknowingly, went to his doom.