st reputable statesmen."

"So that Mr. Durand is shown the same consideration, I am content," said
I. "It is the truth and the truth only I desire. I am willing to trust
my cause with you."

He looked none too grateful for this confidence. Indeed, now that I
look back on this scene, I do not wonder that he shrank from the
responsibility thus foisted upon him.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Prove something. Prove that I am altogether wrong or altogether right.
Or if proof is not possible, pray allow me the privilege of doing what I
can myself to clear up the matter."

"You?"

There was apprehension, disapprobation, almost menace in his tone. I
bore it with as steady and modest a glance as possible, saying, when I
thought he was about to speak again:

"I will do nothing without your sanction. I realize the dangers of this
inquiry and the disgrace that would follow if our attempt was suspected
before proof reached a point sufficient to justify it. It is not an open
attack I meditate, but one--"

Here I whispered in his ear for several minutes, when I had finished he
gave me a prolonged stare, then he laid his hand on my head.

"You are a little wonder," he declared. "But your ideas are very
quixotic, very. However," he added, suddenly growing grave, "something,
I must admit, may be excused a young girl who finds herself forced to
choose between the guilt of her lover and that of a man esteemed
great by the world, but altogether removed from her and her natural
sympathies."

"You acknowledge, then, that it lies between these two?"

"I see no third," said he.

I drew a breath of relief.

"Don't deceive yourself, Miss Van Arsdale; it is not among the
possibilities that Mr. Grey has had any connection with this crime. He
is an eccentric man, that's all."

"But--but--"

"I shall do my duty. I shall satisfy you and myself on certain points,
and if--" I hardly breathed "--there is the least doubt, I will see you
again and--"

The change he saw in me frightened away the end of his sentence. Turning
upon me with some severity, he declared: "There are nine hundred and
ninety-nine chances in a thousand that my next word to you will be
to prepare yourself for Mr. Durand's arraignment and trial. But an
infinitesimal chance remains to the contrary. If you choose to trust to
it, I can only admire your pluck and the great confidence you show in
your unfortunate lover."

And with this half-hearted encoura