sentence will probably not be disclosed till later."

She shivered again, and he reached forward and drew the window a little
higher.

"I'm not cold," she said quickly. "Trevor, aren't you--just
a little--sorry for him?"

"For whom?"

"For the prisoner--for--for Captain Rodolphe." She stammered the name
with downcast eyes.

"No." Very calmly and very decidedly came his answer. "I have no pity for
a man of that sort. I think he should be shot."

"Oh, do you?" she said with a gasp.

"Yes, I do. A treacherous scoundrel like that is worse than a murderer in
my opinion. So is anyone who is fundamentally untrustworthy."

"Oh, but--but--Trevor--," she said, and suddenly there was a note of
pleading in her halting words, "that includes the weak people with the
wicked. Don't you think--that is rather hard?"

"Quite possibly." He made the admission in a tone she did not understand,
and relapsed into silence.

She felt as if the subject were closed, and did not venture to pursue it.

But after a moment he surprised her by a quiet question: "Why don't you
try to convince me that I am wrong?"

She looked up at him quickly, as if compelled. His eyes were waiting for
hers, met them, held them.

"I am not suggesting that you should defend Rodolphe," he said. "You were
not thinking of him. He is not one of the weak."

"I was thinking of myself," she said. "And--and--and--" She wavered and
stopped.

"Rupert?" he suggested.

She caught her breath. "What made you think of him?"

"You were thinking of him, were you not?"

She made a gesture of helplessness. "Yes."

"I see," he said. "But you needn't be anxious about Rupert. He came to me
long ago and told me the truth."

She opened her eyes wide. "What made him do that?"

"He heard that Bertrand was bearing the blame for his misdeeds, and he
had the decency to be ashamed of himself."

"Oh!" said Chris. She was silent for a moment, still meeting his steady
gaze. Suddenly her mouth quivered and she turned from them. "Trevor, I--I
am ashamed too."

"Hush!" he said.

The word was brief, it sounded stern; but in the same instant his hand
found hers and held it very tightly.

She mastered herself with a great effort in response to his insistence.
"Were you very angry with him?" she whispered.

"No."

"You didn't--punish him in any way?"

"No. I told him to forget it and said I should do the same. As a matter
of fact, I had forgotten it until this moment." Mo