"I will, I will make a full confession; but be merciful in your judgment, remember I am doing this because I love you, that I do not want it to stand between us, I plead to you not to throw all the blame on me. Hector Woodridge was a strong man and I loved him, I believe he loved me, he overcame all my scruples. I yielded to him, gave myself to him--surely that was a great sacrifice, my name, honor, everything for his sake. We were together in my husband's study. We thought he was in London, but he did not go; he set a trap and caught us. I shall never forget the look on his face when he came into the room. I saw his eyes rest on the revolver, and I felt it was our lives or his, but we stood between him and the weapon. "Hector Woodridge guessed what was in his mind; he must have done so, for he laid his hand on the revolver. My husband saw the movement and said, 'Put that down, you scoundrel,' and advanced toward us. Hector raised the revolver and told him to stand back. He did so; he was afraid. "There was an angry altercation. I remember saying I was tired of him, that I would live with him no longer, that I loved Hector Woodridge. This drove him to distraction; he became furious, dangerous; he would have killed us without hesitation had he possessed the revolver, there was such a murderous look in his eyes. Does my sordid story interest you?" she asked. "It does; everything you do or say interests me," he said. "And you do not utterly despise me, think me too bad to be in decent society, to be sitting here alone with you?" "Go on," he said in a tone that was half a command, and which caused her to feel afraid of something unknown. "At last Elroy's rage got the better of his prudence; he made a dash forward to seize the revolver, raised in Hector's hand. It was the work of a second, his finger was on the trigger; he pulled it, there was a report, Elroy staggered forward, fell on his face, dead," she said with a blanched face, and trembling voice. "_You_ pulled the trigger," he said, calmly looking straight at her. CHAPTER XXVIII HOW HECTOR HAD HIS REVENGE This direct charge so astonished her that for a few moments she did not recognize its full significance. She sat wildly staring at him, completely overwhelmed. He watched; her terror fascinated him, he could not take his eyes off her. She tried to speak and failed, seemed on the point of fainting. He let down the window; the cool air revived her, but she was in a deplorably nervous condition. At last the words came. "I pulled the trigger?" she said. "What do you mean, how can you possibly know what happened?" "I said you pulled the trigger. It is true, is it not?" "No; Hector Woodridge shot my husband," she said in a low voice. She was afraid of him; his knowledge seemed uncanny--or was it merely guesswork? "That is a lie," he said. "How dare you say that!" she said, her courage momentarily flashing out. He smiled.