ted from me a promise not to take up this case, I should be
tempted to--consider the matter. In the first place, you know I always
liked Howard. I saw a good deal of him before your marriage to Mr.
Jeffries. He was always a wild, unmanageable boy, weak in character, but
he had many lovable traits. I am very sorry indeed, to see him in such a
terrible position. It was hard for me to realize it and I should never
have believed him guilty had he not confessed to the crime."

"Yes," she assented. "It is an awful thing and a terrible blow to his
father. Of course, he has had nothing to do with Howard for months. As
you know, he turned him out of doors long ago, but the disgrace is none
the less overwhelming."

The lawyer looked out of the window and drummed his fingers on the arm
of his chair. Suddenly wheeling round, and facing his client, he said:

"You know this girl he married is no ordinary woman."

"Oh!" she exclaimed sarcastically. "She has succeeded in arousing your
sympathy."

The judge bowed coldly.

"No," he replied. "I would hardly say that. But she has aroused my
curiosity. She is a very peculiar girl, evidently a creature of impulse
and determination. I certainly feel sorry for her. Her position is a
very painful one. She has been married only a few months, and now her
husband has to face the most awful accusation that can be brought
against a man. She is plucky in spite of it all, and is moving heaven
and earth in Howard's defense. She believes herself to be in some
measure responsible for his misfortune. Apart from that, the case
interests me from a purely professional point of view. There are several
strange features connected with the case. Sometimes, in spite of
Howard's confession, I don't believe he committed that crime."

Alicia changed color and, shifting uneasily on her chair, scrutinized
the lawyer's face. What was behind that calm, inscrutable mask? What
theory had he formed? One newspaper had suggested suicide. She might
herself come forward and declare that Robert Underwood had threatened to
take his own life, but how could she face the scandal which such a
course would involve? She would have to admit visiting Underwood's rooms
at midnight alone. That surely would ruin her in the eyes not only of
her husband, but of the whole world. If this sacrifice of her good name
were necessary to save an innocent man's life, perhaps she might summon
up enough courage to make it. But, after all, she wa