d you and shielded you, whatever it cost me, but
I will not do so at Stephen Laverick's expense."

"What is Laverick to you?" he growled.

"He is nothing to me," she replied, "but the best of friends. Even
were he less than that, do you suppose that I would let an innocent
man suffer?"

He moistened his dry lips rapidly.

"You are talking nonsense, Zoe," he said,--"nonsense! Even if
there has been some little mistake, what could I do now? I have
given my evidence. So far as I am concerned, the case is finished.
I shall not be called again until the trial."

"Then you had better go to the magistrates tomorrow morning and
take back your evidence," she declared boldly, "for if you do not,
I shall be there and I shall tell the truth."

"Zoe," he gasped, "don't try me too high. This thing has upset me.
I'm ill. Can't you see it, Zoe? Look at me. I haven't slept for
weeks. Night and day I've had the fear--the fear always with me.
You don't know what it is--you can't imagine. It's like a terrible
ghost, keeping pace with you wherever you go, laying his icy finger
upon you whenever you would rest, mocking at you when you try to
drown thought even for a moment. Don't you try me too far, Zoe.
I'm not responsible. Laverick isn't the man you think him to be.
He isn't the man I believed. He did have that money--he did,
indeed."

"That," she said, "is to be explained. But he is not a murderer."

"Listen to me, Zoe," Morrison continued, leaning across the table.
"Come and stay with me for a time and we will go away for a
week--somewhere to the seaside. We will talk about this and think it
over. I want to get away from London. We will go to Brighton, if
you like. I must do something for you, Zoe. I'm afraid I've
neglected you a good deal. Perhaps I could get you a better part
at one of the theatres. I must make you an allowance. You ought
to be wearing better clothes."

She drew a little away.

"I want nothing from you, Arthur," she said, "except this--that
you speak the truth."

He wiped his forehead and struck the table before her.

"But, good God, Zoe!" he exclaimed, "do you know what it is that
you are asking me? Do you want me to go into court and say--'That
isn't the man... It is I who am the murderer'? Do you want me to
feel their hands upon my shoulder, to be put there in the dock and
have all the people staring at me curiously because they know that
before very long I am to stand upon