“Certainly, I will tell you where you are,” he replied, somewhat surprisingly. “You are in the spare bedroom of a little cottage that I keep up here for my own use in moments of emergency.”

“But where is ‘up here’?” Violet persisted, stubbornly intent, now that she had managed to get him to talk on this subject, on gaining her point.

“I see no harm,” he said quietly, “why you should not know. You are on the Yorkshire moors, not very far from Sheffield.”

“But this is lovely countryside,” she objected, and he smiled.

“You have the usual south-country idea that Yorkshire is one big, smoky, dirty city,” he said. “Sheffield is less than fifteen miles away. You seem to find that difficult to believe, do you not?”

She nodded.

“Well,” he said, “if and when you get free, you just look on a map of England in an atlas, and find a little town called Penistone. You are about a mile or two away from there at this moment.”

“Penistone?” Violet thought deeply for a moment or two. “I’ve never heard of it before,” she added.

“I do not suppose for one moment that you have,” he agreed. “Possibly it has not heard of you.” And he chuckled again at his footling little joke.

“But,” said Violet, “will you please get on with your explanation of this mysterious proposition which you were so anxious to put before me not so very long ago?”

“Ah! I had almost forgotten, in the excitement of our little geographical discussion,” he said. “But do not forget, my dear Miss Arnell, that it was you who led us off that pleasant little bypath of conversation.”

“Please,” said Violet. “I am tired of this. Tell me what it is that you wish me to do.”

“One or two more questions, if you do not mind,” he added, and then, before she had time to raise any objections, he went on hurriedly: “You have said that you are very much in love with Mr. Harry Baker. But what if he were found guilty of murder—as he almost certainly will be? What if he is hanged? What will be your feelings about marriage then, my dear young lady?”

Violet shuddered. She had to admit to herself that it seemed only too likely that Harry would be hanged. In spite of the discoveries which Mr. Fairhurst had made at her instigation, there was, she knew, still a very strong case against Harry; and it might well be that, even with the assistance of the best counsel who could be obtained, he would be unable to prove his innocence.

“I don’t think that it is in the least likely that he will be found guilty,” she announced bravely.