Tilbury—ha! they were making for Tilbury.
Did you inquire there?"
Steel nodded.
"I could find no trace of them.
No one saw them, or rather her, for I asked only after Miss Denham.
It is my opinion that they must have got on board some ship, and have escaped to foreign parts.
I could not learn of any ship having left that night, though. Well, that is all the evidence, Mrs. Parry, and you can see for yourself that the case against Miss Denham is almost conclusive."
"All the same, I believe she is innocent," insisted the old lady; "it was the man who committed the crime.
Ask Morley about him."
"Do you think he knows anything?"
"Not of the murder; but he must know the man's name.
And now as you have been so frank with me I'll show you what I promised.
Do you remember the anonymous letter and the reference to the Scarlet Cross?"
"Yes.
Miss Denham said that her father—who is now dead—wore a red-enamelled cross on his watch-chain."
"I know.
Mrs. Morley told me so.
Now see here."
Mrs. Parry opened her left hand, which for some time she had kept clenched.
In her palm lay a small gold cross enamelled red.
"Where did you get that?" asked Steel, astounded.
"Mrs. Bates, the pew-opener, found it in the church and brought it to me.
It was found near the spot where the stranger stood."
"What?" Steel started to his feet.
"Ah, you are beginning to see now!" said the old lady. "Yes, Steel, you may well look.
Anne is innocent.
On the evidence of this cross I believe that her father is not dead.
He was the stranger; he killed Daisy, and because he was her father Anne aided him to escape." _____
CHAPTER VII
OLIVER MORLEY
In due time the body of Daisy Kent was buried.
Her remains were laid by those of her father in the very churchyard about which she had complained to Giles a short time before the tragedy of her death.
Ware being still ill, did not attend the funeral, but a large concourse of people from all parts of the county followed the coffin to the grave.
Morley was the chief mourner, and looked haggard, as was natural.
Poor Mrs. Morley remained at home and wept. She did little else but weep in those days, poor soul!
When Mr. Drake had finished the service, and the grave was filled up, the crowd dispersed.
There was a great deal of talk about the untimely death of the girl and the chances of her murderess being caught.
Everyone believed that Anne was guilty; but as Steel had kept his own counsel and Mrs. Parry held her tongue, no mention was made of the tall man.
The chatter of Cissy Jinks and Martha Gibbs certainly seemed to inculpate him in the matter, but only the villagers talked of this especial point.
It never reached the ears of the reporters, and did not get into the papers.
But the journals gave a good deal of space to the affair, and hinted that it was what the French call "un crime passional."
Still, no paper was daring enough to hint at Giles and his presumed connection with the tragedy.
It was merely stated that he had been engaged to the deceased girl, and felt her death so deeply, as was natural, that he had taken to his bed.
Of course, this was an embellishment of facts, as Ware was simply laid up with an attack of pneumonia.
But for the benefit of the public the journalists ascribed it to romantic and undying love.
Giles, who was a matter-of-fact young Englishman, did not see these descriptions, or he would have been much disgusted at the sickly sentimentality.
Meantime no news was heard of Anne.
It was not known that the tall stranger had been with her, for several people had seen the car passing on its way to Tilbury.
It was a lucky thought that had made Trim take that particular direction, and merely by chance that he had stumbled on the motor overthrown in a hedge.
Evidently an accident had occurred, but no one was near at the time, as it took place some little distance from Tilbury and in a lonely part.