All that Rush could do was to make him admit that perhaps he was naturally confused by the flash, the report almost in his ear, the man sinking at his feet, and only fancied he saw a running form; the delusion would be natural in the circumstances, particularly as his thoughts seemed to have been concentrated upon getting out of the way. Mr. Mott admitted almost too eagerly that this might be true, but added that when the district attorney, who was a cousin of Miss Lacke, as well as an old friend of his own, had squeezed the story out of him bit by bit (the form of extraction was supplied by Mr. Rush), that had been his impression; he seemed to have that tall running figure imprinted upon his retina, as it were. Of course it might be just imagination. He wished to God he could swear it was. When asked sharply if even one of his parents was German, he recovered his poise and replied haughtily that he was straight American and as pro-Allies as the best man in the country. He had never entered Old Dutch's beer garden; his choice was a hotel bar, anyhow; he avoided saloons. Rush had a diabolical power of making a witness look ridiculous, but the American mind is essentially a just mind, normally unemotional, and a very magnet for facts. As the Judge adjourned the court until Monday the sob-sisters trailed out dejectedly, after a vain endeavour to get close to Mrs. Balfame; the young men sauntered forth with their heads in the air, and Rush's lips were so closely pressed together that his face looked pure granite. As a matter of fact, his heart felt like water. Mrs. Balfame, who had not permitted herself to show a flicker of interest while Mott was on the stand, rose as the Judge left the room. She smiled upon each of her friends separately and kissed the prominent ladies of Elsinore who had sat beside her throughout that trying day. "Please don't come over to the jail," she said. "I know you are worn out, and I have a bad headache. I must lie down. But do please come to-morrow. You are all too good. Thank you so much." Then with a faint smile and a light step she followed the sheriff through the long tunnel, a horrible vision dancing before her eyes. CHAPTER XXXIII When Rush arrived at the sitting-room of the jail's private suite he found Mrs. Balfame, not in tears as he had nervously anticipated, but distraught, pacing the room, her hands in her disordered hair. "I am done for! done for!" she cried as Rush hastily closed the door. "It would have been better if I had told the truth in the beginning--that I _had_ gone out that night. It was not such a bad excuse,--that I thought I saw a burglar down there,--and it was God's truth. Or I could have said I was walking about the grounds because I had a headache--"