to be done by the
woman, and she did it exceedingly well."

Nick told how Musgrave had been duped.

"Now," he continued, "nothing remains but to clear up the details of
the crime in the restaurant. I shall proceed to state exactly how it was
done."

At this moment Jones, who had previously remained perfectly calm,
uttered a horrible groan, and half arose to his feet. He sank back
fainting.

And then came a surprising incident, for which even the shrewd
superintendent of police had been wholly unprepared.

A pale-faced man, who had been sitting beside Nick, arose and cried, in
a voice that trembled with emotion:

"Stop! Stop! I can bear this no longer!"

It was Hammond, the man who begged Nick to save Jones.

While Nick had been speaking, Hammond's eyes had been fixed upon Jones'
face. He had watched the agony of fear growing upon the wretched man and
gradually overcoming him.

And when the burden became too great for the accused to bear, Hammond
also reached the limit of his endurance.

"I can't stand it," he cried. "You shall not torture this innocent man
any longer."

"What do you mean?" asked the superintendent.

"This is what I mean. The fear of disgrace has kept me silent too long.
Now I will confess everything. Do you think I will sit here and let an
innocent man be condemned and his wife put to torture to save me from
the just punishment of my fault?

"Never! Listen to me. It was I who took that unhappy woman to the place
where she met her death. It was I who wrote that name in the register.

"I! I, and not that innocent man, was her companion. The waiter,
Gaspard, is mistaken.

"I am the man who was in room B!"

CHAPTER IX.

HAMMOND'S STORY.

The effect of this statement can hardly be exaggerated.

It shook the very foundation of the case against the prisoner. If
Gaspard's identification could be disproved, it seemed almost sure that
Jones was saved.

Even though it could be shown beyond a doubt that Corbut had been
murdered in a flat which was rented by Jones, that would not prove that
Jones had done it.

The murderer was evidently the man who had ridden in the cab with
Corbut. And Harrigan, the only witness, had failed to recognize Jones as
that man.

The suspicion must instantly arise that a plot had been carefully laid,
with the purpose of putting the crime upon Jones.

Some enemy had signed his name on the register, and the same cruel
wretch had decoyed Corbut to th