Harroway shook his head significantly. “Not he. It’s pure suicidal obstinacy. You know the kind of man. I’m sure I don’t know what to do. There’s enough against him already--that confounded security of his was in the missing deed-box. God knows what more the police have up their sleeve. An alibi is the only thing. I told him. Replies that there is no question of proving an alibi. You know he might almost as well plead guilty at once. What _is_ one to do, Merriam?” “_Cherchez, la femme_,” replied Gerard. “Well, can either of you give me any idea? You, Mrs. Merriam----?” “There is someone he is fond of in a way,” said Irene. “But who can it be? It is someone I don’t know. But surely, if it is a woman, she will come forward.” “Don’t be too sure of that,” said Gerard. “I asked him point-blank,” continued Harroway, “Is the woman----? But before I could get any further, he turns upon me with one of his Paladin airs, and tells me he never suggested that a woman was involved.” “That settles it,” said Gerard. “Either that or guilt.” “Heaven knows,” sighed Harroway. “And that’s the man I had set my heart upon making the biggest criminal advocate of the day.” “Oh, you must go and use all your influence over him, Gerard,” said Irene, anxiously. “Do you think I have ever stopped him from doing a pig-headed action, all the years I have known him?” “But he loves you above everybody. He must listen to you.” “Why not yourself?” asked Gerard, in a curious tone that caused the solicitor to glance sharply at him. “We will both go, Gerard--together.” “Not a bit of good,” said Harroway, rising to depart. “He sent many kind messages--says he’ll write at length. But won’t see you. Won’t see a soul but me. He’s as proud, in that cell, as Lucifer. But what the dickens he’s got to be proud about in getting himself into this ghastly mess is more than I can imagine.” The solicitor gone, Irene turned to Gerard. “Harroway thinks it will go ill with Hugh.” “So do I--if he keeps up this attitude.” “There is something beneath,” said Irene, moving to the stool by the fire, near his feet, and putting her hand on his knee. “We had a talk on the day before. I wrote to you at Edinburgh about it. He was on the point of committing some folly--hoped we would not think him a scoundrel. What does it mean?” Gerard stretched out his arms and clasped his hands behind his head. “I’m sure I don’t know. The man was always like that. One never could tell his next escapade. What’s the matter? You’re shivering.” “Oh, I am frightened, Gerard, dear. I have a foreboding that ill will come of it--for all of us.” “What the dickens has it got to do with you and me?” said Gerard. She sat silent for awhile, looking into the flaming abysses and fantastic crags of the fire. Then suddenly she turned, excited, clasped his knees and looked passionately into his face.