"Yes; he is a cheery man, and won't take no for an answer. I find that his company does me good, but I prefer to be alone with my books." There were many books in the room and many loose papers on the desk, which Giles saw were manuscripts. "I write sometimes," said Franklin, smiling in his sour way. "It distracts my mind from worries. I am writing a history of Florence during the age of the Renaissance." "A very interesting period," Giles assured him. "Yes; and my daughter Portia helps me a great deal. You have met her, Mr. Ware. She told me." "Yes; we met in the park. She was looking for something, which I found; but I gave it to--to----" Giles hesitated, for he was on dangerous ground. "To another lady," he finished desperately, and waited for the storm to break. To his surprise the man smiled. "You mean my niece Anne," said he in the calmest way. "Yes; I do mean Miss Denham. But I did not know that--that----" "That I wished you to know she was under my roof. Is that it?" "Yes," stammered Giles, quite at sea. He did not expect this candor. Franklin rather enjoyed his confusion. "I did not intend to let you know that she was here. It was her own request that you were kept in ignorance. But since you met her----" "Did you hear of our meeting?" "Certainly. Anne told me of it directly she came back. Oh, I have heard all about you, Mr. Ware. My niece confessed that you loved her, and from Morley I heard that you defended her." "Did Morley know that Anne was here?" "Certainly not. At the outset of our acquaintance he informed me that he believed her to be guilty. I resolved to say nothing, lest he might tell the police." "Why did you not tell him that she was innocent?" asked Giles hotly. The man looked grave and smoothed his shaven chin--a habit with him when perplexed. "Because I could not do so without telling an untruth," he said coldly. Giles started to his feet, blazing with anger. "What!" he cried, "can you sit there and tell me that your own niece killed that poor girl?" "I have reason to believe that she did," replied Franklin. "She told me she was innocent," began Ware. Franklin interrupted. "She loves you too well to say otherwise. But she is--guilty." "I would not believe that if she told me herself." "Sit down, Mr. Ware," said Franklin, after a pause. "I'll explain exactly how the confession came about." Giles took his seat again, and eyed his host pale but defiant. "It is no use your saying anything against Anne. She is innocent." "Mr. Ware, I believed that when she first came to me. I hate my brother because he is a bad man; but I liked his niece, and when she came to me for shelter I took her in, notwithstanding the enormity of the crime which she was accused of having committed." "It gained you your fortune," said Ware bitterly.