He had pleaded "Not guilty," in a voice he scarcely recognised as his own. Shame covered him as with a cold mist. He was committed for trial, but bail was offered him, two sureties of £500 each. He had shaken his head as he gulped down the lump in his throat that prevented him speaking. Who would stand bail for him? He began to realise that he had not a friend; many acquaintances—many pals, yes—but not one friend! A tear dropped on the open book on his knees—"Barnaby Rudge"—that the chaplain had brought him. He had just finished chapter sixty-two, and the tale of Rudge’s prison had strangely softened his troubles. But the uppermost thought in his mind was the woman he loved! Ruby! Again he felt that icy grip at his heart. How often had he reasoned it all out and fought against the suspicion that at last had become a certainty. Why had she not been to see him? Why had she sent no word, not even a message? What a coward he had been. The pistol that he held to his own breast had really been pointed at her heart. She had committed this great crime to save him from a greater. A crime of murder, for in taking his own life did he not end hers, too? And now it was up to him to play the man and pay the price of his own sins. He began to pace the narrow cell. The key turned in the lock, the cell door opened, and a warder curtly ordered Rupert to follow him. A second warder walked behind, and, after descending a flight of stairs, he stopped before a door which he opened and motioned Rupert to enter, and at once closed the door from outside. Rupert found himself in a small, bare room, in the centre of which a table covered with a green, ink-stained cloth and half a dozen wooden chairs were the only furniture. Seated at the table was an elderly man with a closely-trimmed beard, while, standing with his back to the fireplace, was a younger man, whose clean-shaven face and clear-cut features at once arrested Rupert’s attention. The man at the table rose and bowed. "Mr. Dale, I believe! This is Mr. Marshall, who has undertaken your defence. Please be seated!" Rupert obeyed automatically. He was too surprised to speak, and the man, obviously a lawyer, continued: "I must explain to you that I represent Messrs. Redway, Wales & Redway, Sir Richard Crichton’s solicitors, who have been instructed by him to arrange for your defence. Mr. Marshall has kindly accepted the brief and will defend you. Now, Mr. Dale, I want you to tell us all you know about this unfortunate occurrence. You must understand that whatever you tell us will be treated as strictly confidential, and it is absolutely necessary that you are perfectly frank with us. Mr. Marshall will tell you that to conceal anything from us will greatly prejudice your case—in fact, it might ruin your defence." Mr. Marshall murmured "Quite so! quite so!" and began to examine the toes of his boots.