Starting slowly, as if the thoughts roused by this short statement of facts were such as demanded instant consideration, Mr. Orcutt walked to the other side of the room, where he paced up and down in silence for some minutes. When he returned it was the lawyer instead of the lover who stood before her. "Then, it was the simple fact of finding this gentleman's ring on the floor of Mrs. Clemmens' dining-room that makes you consider him the murderer of his aunt?" he asked, with a tinge of something like irony in his tone. "No," she breathed rather than answered. "That was a proof, of course, that he had been there, but I should never have thought of it as an evidence of guilt if the woman herself had not uttered, in our hearing that tell-tale exclamation of 'Ring and Hand,' and if, in the talk I held with Mr. Mansell the day before, he had not betrayed---- Why do you stop me?" she whispered. "I did not stop you," he hastily assured her. "I am too anxious to hear what you have to say. Go on, Imogene. What did this Mansell betray? I--I ask as a father might," he added, with some dignity and no little effort. But her fears had taken alarm, or her caution been aroused, and she merely said: "The five thousand dollars which his aunt leaves him is just the amount he desired to start him in life." "Did he wish such an amount?" Mr. Orcutt asked. "Very much." "And acknowledged it in the conversation he had with you?" "Yes." "Imogene," declared the lawyer, "if you do not want to insure Mr. Mansell's indictment, I would suggest to you not to lay too great stress upon any _talk_ you may have held with him." But she cried with unmoved sternness, and a relentless crushing down of all emotion that was at once amazing and painful to see: "The innocent is to be saved from the gallows, no matter what the fate of the guilty may be." And a short but agitated silence followed which Mr. Orcutt broke at last by saying: "Are these all the facts you have to give me?" She started, cast him a quick look, bowed her head, and replied: "Yes." There was something in the tone of this assertion that made him repeat his question. "Are these _all_ the facts you have to give me?" Her answer came ringing and emphatic now. "Yes," she avowed--"all." With a look of relief, slowly smoothing out the deep furrows of his brow, Mr. Orcutt, for the second time, walked thoughtfully away in evident consultation with his own thoughts. This time he was gone so long, the suspense became almost intolerable to Imogene. Feeling that she could endure it no longer, she followed him at last, and laid her hand upon his arm. "Speak," she impetuously cried. "Tell me what you think; what I have to expect." But he shook his head. "Wait," he returned; "wait till the Grand Jury has brought in a bill of indictment. It will, doubtless, be against one of these two men; but I must know which, before I can say or do any thing."