rrupted the Judge shortly. "It cannot go
before the jury."

The Bishop was beaten; he knew he could do no more.

Emmet Dardis was desperate. There was not the slightest hope for his
client--unless--unless. He knew that Rafe Gadbeau had made confession
to the Bishop. He had wanted to ask the Bishop this morning, if there
was not some way. He had not dared. Now he dared. The Bishop stood
waiting for his further questions. There might be some way or some
help, thought Dardis; maybe some word had dropped which was not a part
of the real confession. He said quickly:

"You were with Rafe Gadbeau at his death?"

"I was."

"What did he say to you?"

Jeffrey Whiting leaned forward in his chair, his eyes eager and
confident. His heart shouting that here was his deliverance. Here was
the hour and the need! The Bishop would speak!

The Bishop's eyes fell upon the prisoner for an instant. Then he
looked full into the eyes of his questioner and he answered:

"Nothing."

"That will do. Thank you, Bishop," said Dardis in a low, broken
voice.

Jeffrey Whiting fell back in his chair. The light of confidence died
slowly, reluctantly out of his eyes. The Bishop had spoken. The Bishop
had _lied_! He _knew_! And he had _lied_!

As the Bishop walked slowly back to his seat, Ruth Lansing saw the
terrible suffering of the spirit reflected in his face. If she were
questioned about that night, she must do as he had done.

Mother in Heaven, she prayed in agony, must I do that? _Can_ I do
that?

Oh! She had never thought it would come to this. How _could_ it happen
like this! How could any one think that she would ever stand like
this, alone in all the world, with the fate of her love in her hands,
and not be able to speak the few little words that would save him to
her and life!

She _would_ save him! She _would_ speak the words! What did she care
for that wicked man who had died yelling out that he was a murderer?
Why should she keep a secret of his? One night in the early summer she
had lain all through the night in the woods outside a cabin and wished
for a way to kill that man. Why should she guard a secret that was no
good to him or to any one now?

Who was it that said she must not speak? The Catholic Church. Then she
would be a Catholic no longer. She would renounce it this minute. She
had never promised anything like this. But, on the instant, she knew
that that would not free her. She knew that she could throw off the