did
him the justice to believe that he would have felt heartily ashamed of
himself.)

"There is nothing to be said," I rejoined, "except that Mrs. Beauly is
innocent, and that you and I have done her a grievous wrong. Don't you
agree with me?"

"I entirely agree with you," he answered, without an instant's
hesitation. "Mrs. Beauly is an innocent woman. The defense at the Trial
was the right defense after all."

He folded his arms complacently; he looked perfectly satisfied to leave
the matter there.

I was not of his mind. To my own amazement, I now found myself the least
reasonable person of the two!

Miserrimus Dexter (to use the popular phrase) had given me more than I
had bargained for. He had not only done all that I had anticipated
in the way of falsifying Mr. Playmore's prediction--he had actually
advanced beyond my limits. I could go the length of recognizing Mrs.
Beauly's innocence; but at that point I stopped. If the Defense at
the Trial were the right defense, farewell to all hope of asserting my
husband's innocence. I held to that hope as I held to my love and my
life.

"Speak for yourself," I said. "My opinion of the Defense remains
unchanged."

He started, and knit his brows as if I had disappointed and displeased
him.

"Does that mean that you are determined to go on?"

"It does."

He was downright angry with me. He cast his customary politeness to the
winds.

"Absurd! impossible!" he cried, contemptuously. "You have yourself
declared that we wronged an innocent woman when we suspected Mrs.
Beauly. Is there any one else whom we can suspect? It is ridiculous to
ask the question. There is no alternative left but to accept the facts
as they are, and to stir no further in the matter of the poisoning at
Gleninch. It is childish to dispute plain conclusions. You must give
up."

"You may be angry with me if you will, Mr. Dexter. Neither your anger
nor your arguments will make me give up."

He controlled himself by an effort--he was quiet and polite again when
he next spoke to me.

"Very well. Pardon me for a moment if I absorb myself in my own
thoughts. I want to do something which I have not done yet."

"What may that be, Mr. Dexter?"

"I am going to put myself into Mrs. Beauly's skin, and to think with
Mrs. Beauly's mind. Give me a minute. Thank you."

What did he mean? what new transformation of him was passing before my
eyes? Was there ever such a puzzle of a man as this? Who that