e wrongs you speak of?" His
voice was almost tender in its gentleness, and his face had a strange
expression, as she said: "Yes, it would, Captain Jack."

"You mean, then--to marry him?"

Something in the tenseness of his tones, the strange look of anxiety
in his eyes, decided her answer.

"I mean that I have married him."

She spoke so softly it was almost a whisper, but if it had been
trumpet-like he could not have looked more astonished. His face grew
white, and he took a step backward from her. Masterson, who noticed
the movement, walked down to the desk, where he could hear. Margeret
was nearer to them than he. All he heard was Madame Caron asking if
Captain Monroe would not now agree that she should see the picture
since it was necessary to defend herself.

But Monroe had gone back to his chair, where he sat looking at her
thoughtfully, and looking at Margeret, also, who had remained near the
door, and gave no sign of having heard their words--had she?

"No, Madame Caron," he said, quietly, "if there is any evidence in my
favor you can communicate to Colonel McVeigh, I shall be your debtor,
but the picture is altogether a personal affair of my own. I will, if
I can, prevent it from being used in this case at all, out of
consideration for the lady whom I mentioned before."

CHAPTER XXX.

Kenneth McVeigh walked the floor of his own room, with the bitterest
thoughts of his life for company. Loyal gentleman that he was, he was
appalled at the turn affairs had taken. It had cost him a struggle to
give up faith in the man he had known and liked--but all that was as
nothing compared to the struggle in which his own love fought against
him.

In that room where death apparently stood on the threshold, and the
dying man had followed him about the room with most terrible,
appealing eyes, he had heard but few of the words spoken--all his
heart and brain were afire with the scene he had just left; that, and
the others preceding it! Every word or glance he had noticed between
Monroe and the woman he loved returned to him! Trifles light as air
before, now overwhelmed him with horrible suggestions; and her
pleading for him that morning--all the little artifices, the pretended
lightness with which she asked a first favor on her wedding
morning--their wedding morning! for whatever she was or was not, she
was, at least, his wife!

That fact must be taken into consideration, he could not set it aside;
her disgra