“Wait a moment,” cried Braddock, running to the door.  “Let me talk to you and arrange what is best to be done.  If you will—­”

He proceeded no further, for without vouchsafing him a reply, Hervey, now quite master of the situation, passed through the door, and the Professor hastily followed him.  Those who remained looked at one another, scarcely knowing what to say, or how to act.

“They will arrest thee, my angel,” cried Donna Inez, clasping Random’s arm.

“Let them,” retorted the young man defiantly.  “They can prove nothing.  With all my heart and soul I believe Hervey to be the guilty person.  Hope, what do you say?—­and you, Miss Kendal?”

“Hervey has certainly made an excellent defense,” said Archie cautiously.  “He wouldn’t have been such a fool as to murder Bolton ashore when he could have done it so easily when on the narrow seas.”

“I agree with you there,” said Random quickly.  “But if he is innocent; if he did not bring the manuscript into my room, who did?”

“I wonder if Widow Anne herself is guilty?” said Lucy in a musing tone.

All present turned and looked at the girl.

“Who is Widow Anne?” asked Don Pedro with a puzzled air,

“She is the mother of Sidney Bolton, the man who was murdered,” said Hope quickly.  “My dear Lucy, why do you say that?”

Lucy paused before replying and then answered the question by asking another one.

“Did you ask Sidney to get you some clothes from his mother to clothe a model?”

“Never in my life,” said Hope promptly, and, as Lucy, saw, truly.

“Well, I accidentally met Mrs. Bolton to-day, and she insisted that her son had borrowed from her a dark shawl and a dark dress for you.”

“That is not true,” said Hope hotly.  “Why should the woman tell such a lie?”

“Well,” said Lucy slowly, “it struck me that the woman who spoke with Sidney through the Sailor’s Rest window might be Widow Anne herself, and that she has invented this story of the clothes being lent to account for their being worn, should she be discovered.”

“It’s certainly odd she should speak like this,” said Random thoughtfully; “but you forget, Miss Kendal, that she proved an alibi.”

“What of that?” cried Don Pedro hurriedly, “alibis can be manufactured.”

“It will be best to see this woman and question her,” suggested Donna Inez.

Archie nodded.

“I shall do so to-morrow.  By the way, does she ever come to your room in the Fort, Random?”

“Oh yes, she is my laundress, you know, and at times brings back the clothes herself.  My servant is usually in, though.  I see what you mean.  That she might have received the manuscript from Bolton, and have left it in my room.”