he world."

"This man!" was her startled exclamation. "It is not possible; I do not
know him; he does not know me. I never talked with him but once in my
life, and that was to say words I am not only willing but anxious for
him to repeat."

"Miss Dare," the District Attorney pursued, "when you say this you show
how completely you have been deceived. The conversation to which you
allude is not the only one which has passed between you two. Though you
did not know it, you held a talk with this man at a time in which you so
completely discovered the secrets of your heart, you can never hope to
deceive us or the world by any story of personal guilt which you may see
fit to manufacture."

"I reveal my heart to this man!" she repeated, in a maze of doubt and
terror that left her almost unable to stand. "You are playing with my
misery, Mr. Ferris."

The District Attorney took a different tone.

"Miss Dare," he asked, "do you remember a certain interview you held
with a gentleman in the hut back of Mrs. Clemmens' house, a short time
after the murder?"

"Did this man overhear my words that day?" she murmured, reaching out
her hand to steady herself by the back of the chair near which she was
standing.

"Your words that day were addressed to this man."

"To him!" she repeated, staggering back.

"Yes, to him, disguised as Craik Mansell. With an unjustifiable zeal to
know the truth, he had taken this plan for surprising your secret
thoughts, and he succeeded, Miss Dare, remember that, even if he did you
and your lover the cruel wrong of leaving you undisturbed in the
impression that Mr. Mansell had admitted his guilt in your presence."

But Imogene, throwing out her hands, cried impetuously:

"It is not so; you are mocking me. This man never could deceive me like
that!"

But even as she spoke she recoiled, for Hickory, with ready art, had
thrown his arms and head forward on the table before which he sat, in
the attitude and with much the same appearance he had preserved on the
day she had come upon him in the hut. Though he had no assistance from
disguise and all the accessories were lacking which had helped forward
the illusion on the former occasion, there was still a sufficient
resemblance between this bowed figure and the one that had so impressed
itself upon her memory as that of her wretched and remorseful lover,
that she stood rooted to the ground in her surprise and dismay.

"You see how it was done, do you