you as your best plan of defense. Since then, an idea
has struck me, which may be useful--an idea so desperate, so
uncertain--involving a proposal so absolutely dependent, as to its
successful execution, on the merest chance, that I refuse to confide it
to you except on one condition."

"Mention the condition! I submit to it before hand."

"Give me your word of honor that you will not mention what I am about
to say to your sister until I grant you permission to speak. Promise me
that when you see her shrinking before the terrors of death to-night,
you will have self-restraint enough to abstain from breathing a word of
hope to her. I ask this, because there are ten--twenty--fifty chances to
one that there _is_ no hope."

"I have no choice but to promise," answered Trudaine.

Lomaque produced his pocket-book and pencil before he spoke again.

"I will enter into particulars as soon as I have asked a strange
question of you," he said. "You have been a great experimenter in
chemistry in your time--is your mind calm enough, at such a trying
moment as this, to answer a question which is connected with chemistry
in a very humble way? You seem astonished. Let me put the question at
once. Is there any liquid or powder, or combination of more than one
ingredient known, which will remove writing from paper, and leave no
stain behind?"

"Certainly! But is that all the question? Is there no greater
difficulty?"

"None. Write the prescription, whatever it may be, on that leaf,"
said the other, giving him the pocket-book. "Write it down, with
plain directions for use." Trudaine obeyed. "This is the first
step," continued Lomaque, putting the book in his pocket, "toward the
accomplishment of my purpose--my uncertain purpose, remember! Now,
listen; I am going to put my own head in danger for the chance of
saving yours and your sister's by tampering with the death-list. Don't
interrupt me! If I can save one, I can save the other. Not a word about
gratitude! Wait till you know the extent of your obligation. I tell
you plainly, at the outset, there is a motive of despair, as well as a
motive of pity, at the bottom of the action in which I am now about
to engage. Silence! I insist on it. Our time is short; it is for me to
speak, and for you to listen. The president of the tribunal has put the
deathmark against your names on the prison list of to-day. That list,
when the trials are over and it is marked to the end, will be called in