“Yes, yes, my lord! the feeling does you honor,” Darby nodded sympathetically; “but it must be some comfort for you to know that your poor cousin perished when on an errand of mercy, although his aim was not perhaps quite in accordance with strict justice.”

Lambert stared.  “I don’t know what you mean,” he remarked, being puzzled by this coupling of Garvington’s name with any good deed.

“Of course you don’t, my lord.  But for you to understand I had better begin with Miss Greeby’s confession.  I must touch on some rather intimate things, however,” said the inspector rather shyly.

“Meaning that Miss Greeby was in love with me.”

“Exactly, my lord.  Her love for you—­if you will excuse my mentioning so private a subject—­caused the whole catastrophe.”

“Indeed,” the young man felt a sense of relief, as if Darby put the matter in this way the truth about the forged letter could scarcely have come to light, “will you explain?”

“Certainly, my lord.  Miss Greeby always wished to marry your lordship, but she knew that you loved your wife, the present Lady Garvington, who was then Lady Agnes Pine.  She believed that you and Lady Agnes would sooner or later run away together.”

“There was no reason she should think so,” said Noel, becoming scarlet.

“Of course not, my lord.  Pardon me again for speaking of such very private matters.  But I can scarcely make your lordship understand how the late Sir Hubert Pine came by his death unless I am painfully frank.”

“Go on, Mr. Inspector,” Noel leaned back and folded his arms.  “Be frank to the verge of rudeness, if you like.”

“Oh, no, no, my lord; certainly not,” Darby said in a shocked manner.  “I will be as delicate as I possibly can.  Well, then, my lord, Miss Greeby, thinking that you might elope with the then Lady Agnes Pine, resolved to place an even greater barrier between you than the marriage.”

“What could be a possibly greater barrier?”

“Your honor, my lord, your strict sense of honor.  Miss Greeby thought that if she got rid of Sir Hubert, and Lady Agnes was in possession of the millions, that you would never risk her losing the same for your sake.”

“She was right in supposing that, Mr. Inspector, but how did Miss Greeby know that Lady Agnes would lose the money if she married me?”

“Sir Hubert told her so himself, my lord, when she discovered that he was at the Abbot’s Wood camp under the name of Ishmael Hearne.”

“His real name.”

“Of course, my lord; of course.  And having made this discovery and knowing how jealous Sir Hubert was of his wife—­if you will pardon my mentioning the fact—­Miss Greeby laid a trap to lure him to The Manor that he might be shot.”

The listener moved uneasily, and he now quite expected to hear the revelation of Garvington’s forgery.  “Go on, Mr. Inspector.”

“Miss Greeby,” pursued the officer, glancing at his notes, “knew that the late Mark Silver, who was Sir Hubert’s secretary, was not well disposed toward his employer, as he fancied that he had been cheated out of the proceeds of certain inventions.  Miss Greeby worked on this point and induced Silver to forge a letter purporting to come from Lady Agnes to you saying that an elopement had been arranged.”