To conceive a sudden, strange, and indefinite suspicion; to fling myself in his way; to take him by the shoulders as if he were a child, and turn his craven face, perforce, towards the board, were with me the work of an instant.

“Look at him!” I exclaimed.  “Look at his face!  I ask no better witness to the truth of my words.”

The chairman’s brow darkened.

“Mr. Raikes,” he said, sternly, “if you know anything, you had better speak.”

Vainly trying to wrench himself from my grasp, the under-secretary stammered out an incoherent denial.

“Let me go,” he said.  “I know nothing,—­you have no right to detain me,—­let me go!”

“Did you, or did you not, meet Mr. John Dwerrihouse at Blackwater station?  The charge brought against you is either true or false.  If true, you will do well to throw yourself upon the mercy of the board, and make full confession of all that you know.”

The under-secretary wrung his hands in an agony of helpless terror.

“I was away,” he cried.  “I was two hundred miles away at the time!  I know nothing about it—­I have nothing to confess—­I am innocent—­I call God to witness I am innocent!”

“Two hundred miles away!” echoed the chairman.  “What do you mean?”

“I was in Devonshire.  I had three weeks’ leave of absence—­I appeal to Mr. Hunter—­Mr. Hunter knows I had three weeks’ leave of absence!  I was in Devonshire all the time—­I can prove I was in Devonshire!”

Seeing him so abject, so incoherent, so wild with apprehension, the directors began to whisper gravely among themselves; while one got quietly up, and called the porter to guard the door.

“What has your being in Devonshire to do with the matter?” said the chairman.  “When were you in Devonshire?”

“Mr. Raikes took his leave in September,” said the secretary; “about the time when Mr. Dwerrihouse disappeared.”

“I never even heard that he had disappeared till I came back!”

“That must remain to be proved,” said the chairman.  “I shall at once put this matter in the hands of the police.  In the mean while, Mr. Raikes, being myself a magistrate, and used to deal with these cases, I advise you to offer no resistance, but to confess while confession may yet do you service.  As for your accomplice—­”

The frightened wretch fell upon his knees.

“I had no accomplice!” he cried.  “Only have mercy upon me,—­only spare my life, and I will confess all!  I didn’t mean to harm him!  I didn’t mean to hurt a hair of his head.  Only have mercy upon me, and let me go!”

The chairman rose in his place, pale and agitated.  “Good heavens!” he exclaimed, “what horrible mystery is this?  What does it mean?”

“As sure as there is a God in heaven,” said Jonathan Jelf, “it means that murder has been done.”

“No—­no—­no!” shrieked Raikes, still upon his knees, and cowering like a beaten hound.  “Not murder!  No jury that ever sat could bring it in murder.  I thought I had only stunned him—­I never meant to do more than stun him!  Manslaughter—­manslaughter—­not murder!”