In a cottage in Thring Street, marked "E. Norfolk, E. 58, Constabulary", Hogarth passed the night, having been arrested the moment he returned home from the elm.

A few minutes afterwards Margaret, who had found no Frankl at the towing-path, came home to the ghastliest amazement throughout Thring, so that sleep overcame the village only toward morning.

At 7.30 A.M. Hogarth was marched to Beccles, then after an inquest- verdict appeared before the magistrates' court, and was committed.

One of the witnesses in the summary-jurisdiction court had been Loveday, who had deposed that Hogarth, on leaving the chapel, was, beyond doubt, in a passion; and mixed with the crowd was Margaret, who, standing thickly veiled, heard that evidence. And thought she: "Is it possible that he can be giving evidence against Richard like that? And smiling, the mean, false thing—"

She had disappeared on the morning after the arrest: and Loveday was now racked by disquiet, wondering how she was living, though she and he were in the same train, unconscious of each other, when he followed Hogarth to Norwich; and, as Margaret stepped upon the Thorpe platform there, a Jew, who was watching the arrival of every train, spied and shadowed her to the old Maid's Head, this intricate city being now crowded, the Assizes all in the air, mixed with the Saturday cattle-market.

At ten the next morning Margaret learned at the Guildhall the address of her brother's defending solicitor, and set out to find him, the wretchedest woman on earth now.

But as she passed by the archway in the tower of St. Peter Mancroft,
Loveday stood before her; and she started like a shying horse.

"Good morning"—she went on past him.

He took two steps after her. "Are you in a hurry? Can I come with you?"

"It is quite near. Thank you—I'd liefer go alone".

He, a delicate being, all nerves, was repelled; lifted the old cloth hat; but then again stepped after her, saying: "But are you angry with me for something?"

"Why should I be? I have no right to expect anything from you, Mr.
Loveday".

"No right? You have , a little, I fancy!"

He said it at her ear with such a lowering of the eyelids, that it pierced to her fond heart, and she smiled with a "H'm!" uncertain, half turned to him; but said: "I must be getting on—"

"But it is most important that I should talk to you about everything. Where are you staying?"

"It is some distance from here", she answered, undecided whether or not to give her address.

"Ah—in that case—but still—will you meet me? Say here—this evening?"

"I will see if I can".

"At seven?"

"I will see".

So they parted, she to tread that intricacy of streets round the Market, with stoppages for enquiries, till she found the office, where she presently sat in an inner room, veil at nose-tip, and before her at a grate stood Hogarth's solicitor.

What, till now, for shame, she had concealed, she revealed: showing how Richard could not possibly have taken the revolver with him to the elm, since she, two days previously, had secretly given it to— someone.

Mr. Carr, the solicitor, frowned, elaborating his nails.

"This is very extraordinary", he said. "Whyever did you keep us in the dark as to all this before? And to whom was it that you gave the revolver? and why?"

"Am I bound to tell that?"

"No, but you may be sure that the truth will be got from you. Stay— I must ask you to excuse me now. But tomorrow morning at this hour— will you? As for your brother, have no fears at all: he is now absolutely safe".

Margaret went rapidly away, not knowing whither, only returning toward late afternoon to her inn. As she entered, a letter was handed her from Frankl.

"Dear Miss Hogarth:

"It is only due to you that I should see you at once to explain the mystery of this affair, so as to clear your brother, and as it would not do for me to call upon you for obvious reasons, the only thing for us to do is to meet to-night on Mousehold Heath at 7 P.M. without fail…"

What now was she to do? At "7 P.M." she had half promised Loveday to meet him.

And what had her meetings with Baruch Frankl, innocent as they were, brought upon her and hers!

Yet Frankl must be kindly intentioned, she reasoned—since he had sent them the £50; and she thought of that agony of humiliation when she had asked Loveday for £2, and he had refused.

And he had given evidence against Richard with his down-turned smile.

But he had said a word at her ear—and her crushed heart had leapt. She did not know what to do, fell by her bedside and prayed to be taught which of the two was Richard's best friend.

As she passed over the inn-threshold, she decided in favour of
Frankl: and a few minutes past seven was on Mousehold Heath.

Frankl hurried to meet her, and the hand which he held out was rather cold; but she did not take it.

"No, Mr. Frankl", said she, "before I give my hand, it is only what is due to me to hear how Richard's pistol, which I trusted to you, was found where it was—"

"Well, that is only fair", answered Frankl; "that is only fair. But
I have a carriage there, let us get into it, and sit as we talk".

She could see no carriage in that dark, yet it stood only some yards away—Frankl's own.

"I think I prefer to stand…" said she.

"As you like. But with regard to the gun, I should have thought that you could have guessed how it was—but no, you always mistrust me instead—the Jew. Don't you know that the dead man was a servant in my house? Well, I left the two guns in my study, and he, wanting to shoot himself, stole one, that's all".

"It was he shot himself?"

"Why, who else? You don't suppose Richard shot him! You are as cool as they make them".

"Well, that was how it was! But couldn't you say that at the police- court—?"

"I am going to at the big trial, of course. But I was ill, am ill now, and here have I been running about all day on your brother's behalf, and dead tired—and ill, and all—and you won't let me have a rest in the carriage—"

"Well, as you put it in that way…" she said.

So they walked to a motor-brougham, sat within, and as they commenced to talk again, the brougham moved.

"Tell me", said Frankl, "have you mentioned to anyone that you had given the guns to me?"

"I told Richard's solicitor this morning—"

"That was horribly imprudent, without consulting me!"

"I think I have been silent long enough, don't you? I didn't mention your name, but—"

"Oh, you didn't mention my name! That's all right, then! Look here, do you know—?"

"Well?"

"I believe you love me in your heart. Can't help yourself".

"Oh, Mr. Frankl, do I look as if I was in the mood for that kind of fun to-night, a poor wretch like me, steeped in misery, my God knows".

" I love you !"

He suddenly grasped her wrist, his eyes blazing.

"Stop—let me get out of this—" she said.

"Wait!—I give you your chance!—Listen: I am not a man whose mind you can read right off like a book, I twist like an eel, I am deep, I am tricky, and I never yet met the man that I didn't hoodwink. Ninety-nine per cent of what I say is a lie; even when it is the truth, it is a lie just the same. But at this particular moment I am talking the God's truth: I want you! You shall be my little girl! Chuck Richard!—chuck the swine's-flesh!—I'll take you right away— to Paris—this very night—"

She had arisen, alarmed by his hissed fury. "But, you are stark, staring, raving mad", she said proudly, "that is what you are".

Frankl struck the side of the brougham, it flew, and Margaret tottered backward with an exclamation. The next moment she sent forth a scream, the grip of Frankl on her wrist agonizing her bones.

"Where are we going?" she cried out.

"I gave you your chance!" was Frankl's fierce answer.

"Let me get out!—you must be a wretch—to take advantage—"

He put his mouth to her ear till it touched. "Your nice Richard flogged me like a dog! I felt the cuts to the marrow of my damned soul! Now I've got him in the hollow of this hand! Why, you helped me! you helped me! That's good! And I've got you, too".

Blackness and swiftness bound her; a dizziness overcame her. Soon they were by a great pool of gloomy water—Wroxham Broad—where hern, wild duck, and the mast of the darkling boat brooded among bulrush; and now in three minutes more the brougham was sweeping over the lawn of a lonely building, surrounded by walls.

She, peering, saw with joy both lights and a well-dressed man and woman; and, as the carriage stopped, she sprang out with alacrity, Frankl with her, still grasping her wrist.

"Sir", she blurted out at once, "you will help me, I know. I am a poor unfortunate woman—my name is Margaret Hogarth—"

"We know!" said the gentleman, and, approaching Frankl's ear, asked in Yiddish: "How long has she had her delusion?"

"Only about a week, I think. She may be violent at first, but—"

"Come in, Miss—Hogarth", said the gentleman.

Margaret passed the threshold; the doors closed upon her… Mq9IZYK2YVf2CSxFk0B3ZNo7NBwjfZSoXquUuTHulh22G+RMfBik/xADiSTWBRlr