“But what--what--for Heaven’s sake, Mother, stop that noise, and tell me what they’re going to do. _What is it?_” almost shrieked Elsie, striving to fight down the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. “Don’t you understand, you little fool? (God forgive me for speaking like that!) Oh, Elsie, I’m afraid--I’m afraid they’ll--they’ll arrest you--for murder!” “Don’t use that word!” almost screamed Elsie. “How can I help it? Murder’s what’s been done, and it lies between you and that fellow Morrison. Elsie, how far have things gone between you and him? But there, I needn’t ask. I know you.” Mrs. Palmer wept convulsively. She remained with her daughter until late in the afternoon, and twice during that time Elsie was summoned to a further interrogatory. She learnt that Morrison’s knife had been found close to the alley, and that he had been fetched from his office early in the day and taken away by the police. It was after her mother had gone away, as the dusk was gathering, that Elsie Williams and Leslie Morrison were charged together with the wilful murder of Horace Williams. * * * * * “For God’s sake, Mrs. Williams, tell me the whole truth!” Elsie looked dumbly at Mr. Cleaver, too sick with fright to speak. “Do you understand that you’re in the most frightful danger?” A sound that just amounted to an interrogation forced its way between her dry lips. “You know what the sentence is for anyone found guilty of wilful murder?” Elsie screamed and shrank. Cleaver bent forward, deep dents coming and going at the corners of his nostrils, his white face working with earnestness. She could see the sweat shining upon his forehead. “Try and understand. You will be committed for trial for the murder of your husband.” “But Leslie Morrison....” “He’s in the same boat. His one idea, it seems, is to shield you--to pay the whole of the penalty himself.” “It was him who--who....” Elsie’s voice trailed away. “I know. But who inspired him to do it, Mrs. Williams? I tell you that nothing but absolute frankness can give you a chance.” “Shall I be in the witness-box?” A bewildered idea that she could still make use of her charm to serve her present cause made Elsie ask the question. “You will be in the dock,” said Cleaver grimly. “Understand that everything--your life itself--depends upon your being absolutely straightforward with me. Don’t conceal anything--don’t attempt to. I tell you, it’s your one hope.” Elsie stared and stared at Mr. Cleaver. “I never meant Leslie to do it!” she cried suddenly and wildly. “But you knew he was going to?” “No, no, no!” “Mrs. Williams, tell me the truth. You and Morrison were madly in love with one another, and had been for over a year?” She nodded. “You knew that your husband would never, in any circumstances, set you free?” “Yes. We asked him, begged him to. He--he was very cruel, Mr. Cleaver.” “You and Morrison would not face open scandal by going away together?”