Rosalind Benham got up with the dawn and looked out of a window toward Manti. She had not slept. She stood at the window for some time and then returned to the bed and sat on its edge, staring thoughtfully downward. She could not get Trevison out of her mind. It seemed to her that a crisis had come and that it was imperative for her to reach a decision--to pronounce judgment. She was trying to do this calmly; she was trying to keep sentiment from prejudicing her. She found it difficult when considering Trevison, but when she arrayed Hester Harvey against her longing for the man she found that her scorn helped her to achieve a mental balance that permitted her to think of him almost dispassionately. She became a mere onlooker, with a calm, clear vision. In this rôle she weighed him. His deeds, his manner, his claims, she arrayed against Corrigan and his counter-claims and ambitions, and was surprised to discover that were she to be called upon to pass judgment on the basis of this surface evidence she would have decided in favor of Trevison. She had fought against that, for it was a tacit admission that her father was in some way connected with Corrigan's scheme, but she admitted it finally, with a pulse of repugnance, and when she placed Levins' story on the mental balance, with the knowledge that she had seen the record which seemed to prove the contention of fraud in the land transaction, the evidence favored Trevison overwhelmingly. She got up and began to dress, her lips set with determination. Corrigan had held her off once with plausible explanations, but she would not permit him to do so again. She intended to place the matter before her father. Justice must be done. Before she had half finished dressing she heard a rustle and turned to see Agatha standing in the doorway connecting their rooms. "What is it, dear?" "I can't stand the suspense any longer, Aunty. There is something very wrong about that land business. I am going to telegraph to father about it."