voice, "I and
my friend, Mr. De la Poer, are ordained clergymen of the Church of
Scotland, Episcopal. We are not aware of the formula with which we
ought to approach you, seated as a judge in a court of justice. But we
are here because we know of no way more direct to carry out the wishes
of this poor woman, whose conscience has been touched, and who by full
confession, by condemnation, and by the suffering of punishment,
desires to make what amends she can for the dreadful iniquities in
which, for many years, she has been involved."

In a moment all present knew that it was a matter of the mysteries of
Deep Moat Grange.

"Who is this woman?" asked Sheriff Graham Duffus, the jovial air
suddenly stricken from his face. The fiscal had subsided into the
depths of an official armchair. He reclined in it, apparently seated
upon his shoulder blades, and with half-shut eyes watched proceedings
from under the twitching penthouse of his brows.

"Her name is Aphra or Euphrasia Orrin," said Mr. Ablethorpe, "and she
comes to make full confession before men, of what she has already
confessed to me concerning the murders in which she has been implicated
at Deep Moat Grange."

"And why," said the sheriff, "did not you yourself immediately inform
the justice of your country?"

Mr. Ablethorpe turned upon Sheriff Duffus with a pitying look.

"I was bound," he said simply, "by the secret of the confessional!"

"In Scotland," said the sheriff severely, "we do not acknowledge any
such obligation. But no matter for that, if now, even though
discreditably late, you have by your influence brought this woman to
make public confession!"

"I take my friend by my side to witness--I take Euphrasia Orrin--I take
Him who hears all confessions which come from the heart, to witness
that never have I put the least pressure on this poor woman's
conscience! What she is now doing is by her own desire!"

The sheriff shrugged his shoulders, and the ghost of a smile flickered
among the crafty wrinkles about the corner of the fiscal's mouth. His
work was being done for him.

"You refuse the crumb of credit I was willing to allow you," said the
sheriff. "Well, I put no limit to what any man's conscience may
prescribe to itself, when once it begins to set up rules for its own
guidance. Let us get to business. What has the woman to say?"

The woman had much to say. It was the early afternoon of mid-March
when Aphra began to speak, and lon