t the wretched being before him,
and think of their old schooldays together, then of their first fresh
manhood, and always together, sharing purses, pleasures, troubles, full
confidence always till this trouble had come.

For the moment he hated and loathed the man before him; but the feeling
was momentary. Stratton would not wilfully have thrust himself into
such a position. He felt that there must be something more than he
knew, and, softening down, he said huskily:

"Well, Stratton, what have you to say?"

There was no answer. Stratton gazed at him with a far-off, fixed stare,
full of helpless misery, which drew his friend far nearer in heart, and
he spoke more freely now.

"Come," he said; "speak out. In spite of everything, I am your old
friend. I want to help you. Will you trust me?"

"Trust you? Yes," said Stratton slowly.

"Tell me, then, everything, beginning from the morning when you were to
be married."

Stratton slowly shook his head.

"Come, man; this is no time for reticence. Tell me all," cried Guest
excitedly; and he spoke in a hoarse whisper, and glanced to door and
window, as if afraid of being overheard.

There was the same desponding movement.

"Am I not worthy of your confidence? I tell you I am ready to share
it--ready to help you if you will only be honest with me, and tell me
frankly everything."

There was no reply.

"Stratton, old fellow," cried Guest piteously, "you must speak. I do
not believe that you could have been intentionally guilty."

Stratton glanced at him quickly, but the eager look died out.

"I tell you that you are injuring me as well as yourself. You have
blighted your life; for God's sake don't blight mine, too."

"What--what do you mean?" cried Stratton, who started as if stung at his
friend's reference to his future, and when the appeal came, took a step
or two forward.

"That, knowing what I do, compelled from our old associations to be
silent, I cannot--dare not go near her again."

"Guest!"

"I have said it. How can I take her innocent hand?"

"Because you know nothing," cried Stratton excitedly; "because you shall
know nothing. One is enough to bear a crime, if crime it was."

"Ah! You confess!" cried Guest; "then you did--kill him."

Stratton made no reply, but looked firmly and sorrowfully in his eyes.

"I knew it--I was sure--your manner betrayed you when we were in that
room. I see all, now. You closed that door."

"I will