"And do you mean to say that after all that came out in those dark days, that after the trial and conviction, and my husband's escape and his horrible end, that there is still worse behind?--that he left something which you know and I do not know, but which, if I knew it, could still have the power to wreck my life and break what is the best part of me--yes, I am not ashamed to say so--the best part of me--our friendship. I am not tired of the sound of that word yet, nor shall be. Do you mean that? Do you really mean what you say?" "Yes," answered Brett, who had nodded at each of her questions. "I mean that there is something which I know, and of which the knowledge might ruin the happiness you have found since you have been alone. And yet you ask me to tell you what it is, when no possible good could come from your knowledge of it." "Yes, I do," said Marion, emphatically. "And as for my happiness, you are killing it with every word you say. You have knocked from under my feet the security of my position and you have taken the good out of what was best by saying that a word from you would spoil it. What is there left now but to tell me the truth?" "Your belief in me, if you ever had any--and I know that you had, as I hope that you still have." "My belief in you?" Marion paused, looked at him and then turned away. "Yes, but the more I believe in you, the more I must believe every word you say--" While she was speaking, Stubbs opened the door, and entered the room, bringing a card. "The person wishes to see you, madam," he said, holding out the silver salver. Mrs. Darche's face betrayed some annoyance at the interruption as she took up the card and read the name. "W. H. Wood, Associated Press. What does this mean?" she asked turning to Brett. "Do you know the man?" "Evidently a reporter," said Brett. "Tiresome people," exclaimed Mrs. Darche. "I wonder what in the world he wants. Perhaps he has made a mistake. At all events there is no reason why I should see him. Say that I am engaged," she added, turning to Stubbs. "Wait a minute, Stubbs," said Brett, calling after the man. "Do not send him away," he added, turning to Marion. "Let me see him." "Why?" she asked. "I have an idea that he has come about that story that has got into the papers," said Brett in a low voice. "Impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Darche with great emphasis. "No," objected Brett, "there is just a possibility, and if it should be that, some one had better see him. Something very disagreeable might be written, and it is better to stop it at once." "Very well," said Mrs. Darche, yielding. "If you really think it is better, see him here. Ask Mr. Wood to come in," she said to Stubbs, as she passed him and went out. CHAPTER X. Brett stood before the fireplace as the reporter entered the room--a quiet, pale young man with a pinched face, smooth brown hair and thin hands which somehow conveyed the impression of sadness.