rong defence at his trial. It is in your hands to
prevent such a scandal from becoming public property. But if you are
going to stand on professional etiquette it is just as well you should
understand that I am quite prepared to act independently of you. I have
sufficient influence to obtain an order from the governor of the gaol
for an interview with the condemned man, and I shall do so. I have
discovered sufficient additional evidence in this case to save Penreath,
and I am going to save him, with or without your assistance. You have
had your way--it was a wrong way. Now I am going to have my way. I only
ask you to trust me for a few hours. After I have seen Penreath you are
at liberty to accompany me to the chief constable, to whom I shall tell
everything. That is my last word."

"I will do as you ask, Mr. Colwyn," replied the solicitor, after a short
pause. "Not because I am apprehensive of the consequences, but because
you have convinced me that it would be foolish and wrong on my part to
place any obstacles in the way of establishing my client's innocence,
even if it is only the smallest chance. You must forgive my hesitation.
I am an old man, and your story has been such a shock that I am unable
to realise it yet. But I will not stand on punctilio when it is a
question of trying to save a Penreath of Twelvetrees from the gallows. I
think I can arrange it with the governor of the gaol to permit you to
accompany me when I see Penreath in the morning. That interview is to
take place at twelve o'clock. We can go together from here to the gaol,
if that will suit you."

"That will suit me excellently. And before that interview takes place I
should be glad if you would tell me the facts of Penreath's engagement
to Miss Willoughby."

"I really know very little about it," said Mr. Oakham, looking somewhat
surprised at the question. "I have heard, though, that Penreath met
Miss Willoughby in London before the war, and became engaged after a
very brief acquaintance. Ill-natured people say that the girl's aunt
threw her at Penreath's head. The aunt is a Mrs. Brewer, a wealthy
manufacturer's widow, a pushing nobody----"

"I have met her."

"I had forgotten. Well, you know that type of woman, with an itch to get
into Society. Perhaps she thought that the marriage of her niece to a
Penreath of Twelvetrees would open doors for her. At any rate, I
remember there was a great deal of tittle-tattle at the time to the
effect th