kitchen, sat down in the window-seat, and surveyed him.
He shut the door, turned, and gazed at her, scowling uncertainly.
Then she said gently: "You're looking very poorly, Jim."
"I didn't think you'd be the one to tell of my being in the Castle that night!" he cried bitterly.
"It wasn't me," she said quietly. "It was that little beast, Jane Pittaway. She heard us talking in the drawing-room."
"Oh, that was it, was it?" he said more gently. Then, scowling again, he cried fiercely:
"I'll wring her neck!"
"That's enough of that!" she said sharply. "You've talked a lot too much about wringing people's necks. And a lot of good it's done you."
"Oh, I know you believe I did it, just like everybody else. But I tell you I didn't. I swear I didn't!" he cried loudly, with a vehemence which did not convince her.
"Of course you didn't," she said in a soothing voice. "But what are you going to do if they try to make out that you did? What are you going to tell them?"
He gazed at her with miserable eyes and said in a miserable voice: "God knows what I'm to tell them. It isn't a matter of telling them. It's how
