and also
intense provocation. He'll get a life sentence, or even perhaps----"

But with a loud oath, the most forcible one he had ever uttered in his
life, Colonel Harris had jumped to his feet and brought a heavy fist
crashing down upon the table.

"And by the living God, Tom," he said, "I'll not believe it. No! not
for all your witnesses, and your cross questionings, and your damnable
proofs. No! I'll not believe it, and I know that my girl will not
believe it either--not until we hear the word 'guilty' spoken by
Luke's own lips. And we'll not leave London, we'll not go abroad,
we'll not desert Luke; for I swear, by God that I don't believe that
he is an assassin."

Men who have always been accounted weak often have moments of
unexpected strength. Colonel Harris now seemed to tower morally and
mentally over his brother-in-law. The passion of loyalty was in him,
and caused his eyes to sparkle and his cheeks to glow. The oath he
uttered he spoke with fervour: there would be no faltering, no
wavering in his defence of Luke.

Sir Thomas waited a minute or two, allowing his old friend to recover
his normal self-control as well as his breath, which was coming and
going in quick gasps. Then he said quietly:

"As you will, old man. Have another cigar."

CHAPTER XXII

THEN THE MIRACLE WAS WROUGHT

When Colonel Harris once more arrived at the Langham he found Luke and
Louisa comfortably installed in front of the fire in the private
sitting-room up stairs. She was leaning back against the cushions, her
head resting in her hand, he at the foot of the sofa, his hands
encircling one knee, gazing now and then into the fire, now and then
into her face.

Not troubled creatures these, not man and woman fighting a battle
against life, against the world, for honour, for peace, and for love;
not souls racked by painful memories of the past or grim dread of the
future: only two very ordinary human beings, with a life behind them
of serene contentment, social duties worthily performed, a smooth lake
whereon not a ripple of sorrow or disgrace ever dared to mar the shiny
surface.

And the ruling passion strong in death was stronger still in face of
this new life to be led: the life of to-morrow, full of the unknown,
the ugly, the sordid and mean, full of nameless dangers, and of
possible disgrace. The puppets were still dancing, moved by the
invisible strings held by the hand of the implacable giant called
Convention: t