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“It is too late.”

Her eyes, dilated, were fixed upon his.

“Why? How–too late?” he stammered.

“I killed him.”

“You! You–killed–Ely–Crouch?”

“He had a cane,” she said, in a hurried, flat, half-whisper. “When he caught at me, I tried to get it to defend myself. The handle pulled out. There was a dagger on it. He came at me again. I didn’t realize what I was doing. All I could see was that hateful face drawing nearer. Then it changed and he seemed to dissolve into a hideous heap. I didn’t mean to kill him.” Her voice rose in the struggle against hysteria. “God knows, I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“Hush!”

His hands fell on her shoulders and held her against the onset. Energy and resolution quickened in his eyes. “Who knows of your being in the garden?”

“No one.”

“Any one see you climb the wall and come here?”

“No.”

“Or know that you had an appointment with him?”

“No.”

“Will you do exactly as I tell you?”

“What is the use?” she said dully.

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

“I should have to face it later. I couldn’t face it–the horror and shame of it. I’d rather die a thousand times.” She lifted her arms, the coat opened, and the cane-handled blade dropped to the floor, and rolled. She shuddered away from it. “I kept that for myself, but I couldn’t do it. It’s got his blood on it. When I heard the doctor speak of the poison, it seemed like a miracle of Providence sent to guide me. Oh, give it to me! Is it”–she faltered–“is it quick?”

“Steady!” Stooping he picked up the weapon. “It needn’t come to that, if you can play your part. Have you got the courage to walk out of this house and go home to safety? Absolute safety!”

She searched his face in bewilderment. “I–don’t know.”

“If I give you my word of honor that it depends only on yourself?”

“How?”

“Pull yourself together. Go downstairs quietly. Turn to your left. You’ll see a door. It opens on the street. Walk out with your head up, and go home. You’re as safe as though you’d never seen Ely Crouch. There’s no clue to you.”

“No clue! Look down the fire escape!”

He crossed the room at a bound. Beneath him, its evil snout pointed upwards, sat the dead man’s familiar spirit.

“Good God! The ferret!”

“It’s been sitting there, watching, watching, watching.”

“The more reason for haste. Pull yourself together. Forward, march!” he cried, pressing his will upon her.

“But you? When they come what will you say to them?”

“I’ll fix up something.” He drew back from the window, lowering his voice. “Men in the garden. A policeman.”

“They’ve found him!” She fell into Ned’s chair, dropping her head in her hands. For an instant he studied her. Then he took his great and tender resolution. His hand fell warm and firm on her shoulder.

“Listen; suppose they suspect some one else?”

“Who?”

“Me.”

“You? Why should they?”

“Circumstances. The place. The weapon here in my possession. My known trouble with Ely Crouch. Don’t you see how it all fits in?”

She recovered from the stupor of surprise into which his suggestion had plunged her. “Are you mad? Do you think that I’d let you sacrifice yourself? What am I to you that you should do this for me?”

“The woman I love,” he said quietly. “I have loved you from the first day that I saw you.”

It was at this moment that I returned and halted at the door, an unwilling witness to the rest, only half understanding, not daring to move. I saw the splendid color mount and glorify her beauty. I saw her hands go out to him half in appeal, half in rejection.

“Oh, it’s madness!” she cried. “It’s your life you’re offering me.”

“What else should I offer you–you who have given life its real meaning for me?”

He caught her hands in his and held them. He caught her eyes in his and held them. Then he began speaking, evenly, soothingly, persuasively, binding her to his will.