He resolutely closed down the trap-door opened by his imagination.

“The pit does not yawn for me,” he communed, “but for the man who killed Sir Alan.  Assuredly he will fall into it before many days.  Nothing on earth can stop the meeting of two or more of the hidden channels now being opened up, and when they do meet there must be a dramatic outcome.”

His chief purpose in revisiting Stowmarket was to seek further confidences from Mrs. Capella.  He argued that the sudden journey of her husband to Naples would cause her much uneasiness, and she might now be inclined to reveal circumstances yet hidden.

He refused to take her at a disadvantage.  From the hotel he sent a cyclist messenger with a note asking for an interview, and within an hour he received a cordial request to come at once.

Nevertheless, he was not a little astonished to find Helen Layton awaiting him in Margaret’s boudoir.

The girl showed signs of recent agitation, but she explained her presence quietly enough.

“Mrs. Capella sent for me when your note reached her, Mr. Brett.  She is greatly upset by recent events, and was actually on the point of telegraphing to Davie to ask him to bring you here at once when your message was handed to her.  She will be here presently.  Please do not press her too closely to reveal anything she wishes to withhold.  She is so emotional and excited, poor thing, that I fear her health may be endangered.”

Miss Layton’s words were not well chosen.  She was conscious of the fact, and blushed furiously when Brett received her request with a friendly nod of comprehension.

“I do not know what to say for the best,” she went on desperately.  “I am so sorry for Margaret, and it seems to me to be a terrible thing that my proposed marriage with her cousin should be the innocent cause of all this trouble.”

“Is it the cause?” he asked.

“What else can it be?  Certainly not Mr. Capella’s foolish actions.  If Davie and I were married, and far away from this neighbourhood, we would probably never see him again.  I assure you I attach no serious significance to his mad fancy for me.  The real reason for the present bother is Davie’s desire to reopen the story of the murder.  Of that I am convinced.”

“Then what do you wish me to do?”

Helen’s eyes became suspiciously moist.

“How am I to decide?” she said tremulously.  “Naturally, I want the name of my future husband to be cleared of the odium attached to it, but it is hard that this cannot be done without driving a dear woman like Margaret to despair, perhaps to the grave.”

“I do not see why the one course should involve the other.”

“Nor do I; but the fact remains.  Mr. Capella’s decision to go to Naples is somehow bound up with it.  Oh, dear!  During the last two years a dozen or more girls have been happily married in this village without any one being killed, or running away, or dying of grief.  Why should those things descend upon my poor little head?”