At a door at the end he paused.
"The room is rather dark.
You won't see her clearly," he said, "but you will know her by her voice."
"I would know her anyway," cried Giles fiercely, and tormented beyond endurance.
Franklin gave him another glance, as though asking him to brace himself for the ordeal, and then opened the door.
He showed small mercy in announcing Ware's coming.
"Anne, here is Mr. Ware come to see you.
Tell him the truth."
The room was not very large, and was enveloped in a semi-gloom.
The blind was pulled down, and the curtains were drawn.
The bed was near the window, and on it lay Anne in a white dress.
She was lying on the bed with a rug thrown over her feet. When she heard the name of Giles she uttered a cry. "Keep him away!" she said harshly. "Keep him away! Don't let him come!"
"Anne!
Anne!" cried Giles, coming forward, his mouth dry, his hands clenched. "Do not tell me that you killed Daisy."
There was a groan and silence, but Anne—so far as he could see—buried her face in the pillow.
It was Franklin who spoke.
"Anne, you must tell the truth once and for all."
"No, no," she cried, "Giles would despise me."
"Anne," he cried in agony, "did you kill her?"
"Yes," came the muffled voice from the bed. "I found her at the grave.
My father was not there.
He had missed her in the darkness and the snow.
She taunted me.
I had the stiletto, which I took from the library, and I killed her.
It was my father who saved me. Oh, go away, Giles, go away!"
But Giles did not go.
He rose to his feet and stepped towards the window.
In a second he had the blind up and the curtains drawn apart.
The light poured into the room to reveal—not Anne Denham, but the girl Portia Franklin. _____
CHAPTER XIX
THE CLUE LEADS TO LONDON
It was indeed Portia.
Seeing that she was discovered, she sprang from the bed and faced Giles with a sullen, defiant look on her freckled face.
Still standing in the strong light which poured in through the window, Ware looked at the girl satirically.
"You are a very clever mimic, Miss Franklin," said he, "but you rather forgot yourself in that last speech.
Anne is of too sensitive a nature to have explained herself with such a wealth of detail."
"You were deceived at first," grumbled Portia, rocking herself.
"Only for a moment," replied Giles. "And now I should like to know the meaning of this masquerade?"
"I also," cried Franklin, in his turn. He was staring at his daughter with a look of profound amazement. "Where is Anne, you wretched girl?"
"She has run away."
"Run away!" exclaimed the men simultaneously.
"Yes.
After your finding out last night that she had killed Daisy Kent she was afraid to stop.
She knew that you hated her father, and thought you might hand her over to the police.
Last night she told me so, and said she would run away.
I love Anne, and I let her do as she liked.
It was I who let her out," ended Portia, defiantly.
"Anne should not have so mistrusted me," cried Franklin, much perturbed. "Surely I always protected her, and treated her well."
"Ah, but you didn't know till last night that she was guilty."
"No; but for all that——" began Franklin, only to break off. "Where has she gone?" he demanded angrily.