hances were adverse; and even should he
escape conviction, he believed that the cloud upon him would never be
cleared away entirely, but that it would rest like a pall over the
remainder of his life. At that moment, in his suffering, he felt that
uncleared acquittal, conviction, the worst that could come to him, he
could bear without a murmur were it only possible to separate Anne--Anne
both in the past and present--from his own dark lot. He rose suddenly
from the bench where he had seated himself, turned his back to them,
went to his little grated window, and stood there looking out.

Miss Teller followed him, and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Dear
Ward," she said, "I do not wonder that you are overcome." And she took
out her handkerchief.

He mastered himself and came back to the table. Miss Teller, who, having
once begun, was unable to stop so quickly, remained where she was. Anne,
to break the painful pause, began to ask her written questions from the
slip of paper she had brought.

"Can you recall anything concerning the man who came by and spoke to you
while you were bathing?" she said, looking at him gravely.

"No. I could not see him; it was very dark."

"What did he say?"

"He asked if the water was cold."

"How did he say it?"

"Simply, 'Is the water cold?'"

"Was there any foreign accent or tone, any peculiarity of pronunciation
or trace of dialect, no matter how slight, in his voice or utterance?"

"I do not recall any. Stay, he may have given something of the sound of
g to the word--said 'gold,' instead of 'cold.' But the variation was
scarcely noticeable. Country people talk in all sorts of ways."

Miss Teller hurriedly returned to her chair, after wiping her eyes,
wrote down "gold" and "cold" in large letters on her sheet of paper, and
surveyed them critically.

"Is there nothing else you can think of?" pursued Anne.

"No. Why do you dwell upon him?"

"Because he is the man."

"Oh, Anne, is he?--is he?" cried Miss Teller, with as much excitement as
though Anne had proved it.

"There is no probability. They have not even been able to find him,"
said Heathcote.

"Of course it is only my feeling," said the girl.

"But what _Anne_ feels is no child's play," commented Miss Teller.

This remark, made in nervousness and without much meaning, seemed to
touch Heathcote; he turned to the window again.

"Will you please describe to me exactly what you did from the time you
left the inn to