"Vincent saw the truth in my face," she continued. "Anyhow, he was mad wi' jealousy, and he said that I worn't to come and see yer. He heard me speak to yer last night, he heard me say it's a matter o' life and death and he wor mad. He said I worn't to come; but I wor mad too, mad to come, and I thought I'd get over him by guile. I put summat in his stout, and he drank it--summat, I don't know the name, but I had took it myself and it always made me a sight better, and I gave it to 'im in his stout and he drank it, and then he slept. He lay down on the settle in the kitchen, and he went off into a dead sleep. When he slept real sound I stole away and I come to you. I saw you this evening and you spoke to me and I spoke to you, and I begged of you to keep our secret, and I thought perhaps you would, and I come away feelin' better. I went back 'ome, and the place were quiet, and I got into the kitchen. Vincent was lying on the settle sound asleep. I thought nought o' his sleepin', only to be glad, for I knew he'd never have missed me. I made his supper for him, and built up the fire, and I lit the lamps in the house, and I took off my outdoor things. The dog howled, but I didn't take no notice. Presently I went up to Vincent, and I shook 'im--I shook 'im, 'ard, but he didn't wake. I took his hand in mine, it wor cold as ice; I listened for his breath, there wor none. Squire," said Hetty, rising now to her feet, "my man wor dead; Squire, I have killed 'im, just the same as you killed the man on Salisbury Plain six years ago. My husband is dead, and I have killed him. Squire, you must save me as I saved you." "How?" asked Awdrey. His voice had completely altered now. In the presence of the real tragedy all the hardness had left it. He sank into a chair near Hetty's side, he even took one of her trembling hands in his. "How am I to help you, you poor soul?" he said again. "You must prove an alibi--that's the word. You must say 'Hetty wor wi' me, she couldn't have killed her man,' you must say that; you must tell all the world that you and me was together here." "I'll do better than that," said Awdrey suddenly. "What do you mean?" Hetty started back and gazed at him with a queer mixture of hope and terror in her face. "Better--but there ain't no better," she cried. "Ef you don't tell the simple truth I'll be hanged; hanged by the neck until I die--I, who saved you at the risk of my own soul nearly six years gone."