ity she
had so unwillingly usurped.

It was vital, necessary, that she should know them all, and more than
in that impersonal way, if she counted upon ever freeing herself of the
guilt attributed to her. For she could see no other way but one--that
of exposing and proving the guilt of this vile clique who now surrounded
her, and who had actually instigated and planned the crime of which she
was accused. And it was not an easy task!

And then there were those outside this unholy circle who kept forcing
their existence upon her consciousness, because they, too, played an
intimate part in the sordid drama which revolved around her, and whose
end she could not foresee. There was, for instance--the Adventurer. She
drew in her breath quickly. She felt the color creep slowly upward, and
tinge her throat and cheeks--and then the little chin, strong and firm,
was lifted in a sort of self-defiant challenge. True, the man had been a
great deal in her thoughts, but that was only because her curiosity was
piqued, and because on two occasions now she had had very real cause for
gratitude to him. If it had not been for the Adventurer, she would even
now be behind prison bars. Why shouldn't she think of him? She was
not an ingrate! Why shouldn't she be interested? There was something
piquantly mysterious about the man--who called himself an adventurer.
She would even have given a good deal to know who he really was, and how
he, too, came to be so conversant with Danglar's plans as fast as they
were matured, and why, on those two particular occasions, he had not
only gone out of his way to be of service to her, but had done so at
very grave risk to himself. Of course, she was interested in him--in
that way. How could she help it? But in any other way--the little chin
was still tilted defiantly upward--even the suggestion was absurd. The
man might be chivalrous, courageous, yes, outwardly, even a gentleman in
both manner and appearance; he might be all those things, and, indeed,
was--but he was a thief, a professional thief and crook. It seemed
very strange, of course; but she was judging him, not alone from the
circumstances under which they had met and been together, but from what
he had given her to understand about himself.

The defiance went suddenly from her face; and, for a moment, her
lips quivered a little helplessly. It was all so very strange, and so
forbidding, and--and, perhaps she hadn't the stout heart that a man
would