"Miss Dare," ventured Mr. Ferris, after a moment, "you say this was five minutes to twelve?" "Yes, sir," was the faint reply. "Five minutes later than the time designated by the defence as a period manifestly too late for the prisoner to have left Mrs. Clemmens' house and arrived at the Quarry Station at twenty minutes past one?" "Yes," she repeated, below her breath. The District Attorney surveyed her earnestly, perceiving she had not only spoken the truth, but realized all which that truth implied, and drew back a few steps muttering ironically to himself: "Ah, Orcutt! Orcutt!" Breathlessly she watched him, breathlessly she followed him step by step like some white and haunting spirit. "You believe, then, this fact will cost him his life?" came from her lips at last. "Don't ask me that, Miss Dare. You and I have no concern with the consequences of this evidence." "No concern?" she repeated, wildly. "You and I no concern? Ah!" she went on, with heart-piercing sarcasm, "I forgot that the sentiments of the heart have no place in judicial investigation. A criminal is but lawful prey, and it is every good citizen's duty to push him to his doom. No matter if one is bound to that criminal by the dearest ties which can unite two hearts; no matter if the trust he has bestowed upon you has been absolute and unquestioning, the law does not busy itself with that. The law says if you have a word at your command which can destroy this man, give utterance to it; and the law must be obeyed." "But, Miss Dare----" the District Attorney hastily intervened, startled by the feverish gleam of her hitherto calm eye. But she was not to be stopped, now that her misery had at last found words. "You do not understand my position, perhaps," she continued. "You do not see that it has been my hand, and mine only, which, from the first, has slowly, remorselessly pushed this man back from the point of safety, till now, now, I am called upon to drag from his hand the one poor bending twig to which he clings, and upon which he relies to support him above the terrible gulf that yawns at his feet. You do not see----" "Pardon me," interposed Mr. Ferris again, anxious, if possible, to restore her to herself. "I see enough to pity you profoundly. But you must allow me to remark that your hand is not the only one which has been instrumental in hurrying this young man to his doom. The detectives----" "Sir," she interrupted in her turn, "can you, dare you say, that without my testimony he would have stood at any time in a really critical position?--or that he would stand in jeopardy of his life even now, if it were not for this fact I have to tell?" Mr. Ferris was silent.