rather pale, her
lips twitched, and her breath came quick. Tears were no longer to be
treated merely as a possible policy; they threatened to occur of their
own accord.

What wonder that a feeling of intolerable meanness attacked Mr Jenkinson
Neeld? He was on the wrong side of the table, on the bench instead of in
the dock. He sat there judging; his proper place was side by side with
the criminal, in charge of the same policeman, wearing the handcuffs
too. And he had less excuse for his crime than she. He was even more in
Iver's debt; he had eaten his bread these weeks past; even now he was
pretending to be his adviser and his witness; his deception was deeper
than hers. Besides he was not a young woman who might find excuse in the
glamour of Harry's position or the attraction of Harry's eyes; he was
not a romantic young woman; he was only a romantic old fool. He could
bear it no longer. He must speak. He could not get into the dock beside
her--for that would throw away the case which she was defending so
gallantly--but he must speak a word for her.

"In my opinion," he said nervously, but not without his usual precision,
"we can carry this matter no further. Madame Zabriska declines to speak.
I may say that I understand and respect the motive which I believe
inspires her. She regrets her idle words. She thinks that by repeating
them she would give them greater importance. She does not wish to assume
responsibility. She leaves the matter in your hands, Iver. It is not her
affair; she had no reason to suppose that it would be yours. By a train
of events for which she is not accountable the question has become of
importance to you. In her view it is for you to take your own steps. She
stands aside."

"She's my friend, she's my daughter's friend. The question is whether my
daughter marries Lord Tristram of Blent or an impostor (whether
voluntary or involuntary) without a name, an acre, or, so far as I know,
a shilling. She can help me. She stands aside. You think her right,
Neeld?"

"Yes, I do," said the old gentleman with the promptness of desperation.

"Then your idea of friendship differs diametrically from mine. I desire
no such friends as that."

It is to be hoped that the sting of Iver's remark was somewhat mitigated
by Mina's covertly telegraphed gratitude. Yet Neeld was no happier after
his effort than before it. A silence fell on them all. Mina glanced from
her uncle's face to Iver's. Both men were stern an