“You see, things looked black against you. She wasn’t to know--no one was to know--that it would all come right at the trial.” Faradeane turned and looked at him gravely, and with quick self-possession. “Why do you say that?” he asked, calmly. Mr. McAndrew shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I suppose you’ll explain everything then, sir?” he said. “What surprises me and everybody else is that you don’t do it now. But I dare say you have your reasons.” “I have nothing to explain. I am almost tired of repeating it,” said Faradeane, and he turned to the window with a weary gesture. The detective watched him closely. “Well, yes, you’ve said it often enough; but how much longer do you mean to stick to it?” and he leaned forward with sudden earnestness. Faradeane remained silent. “Look here, sir,” continued McAndrew, quietly but impressively. “I’ve no business sitting here talking to you. I’ve got the case in hand, and it’s my duty to prove you guilty, if you are guilty. But I’m not so sure that you are. It’s right out of the ordinary track, this business, and I come to you, knowing you to be a gentleman, and I say, ‘Here’s a hard-working man trying to earn his living honestly; will you help him?’ That sounds strange to you, I dare say, sir, but it’s my fancy to lay all my cards on the table, and I’ll tell you”--he spread his palms out as if they really held cards--“I tell you, sir, that I’ve got enough evidence already to----” He did not utter the dreadful word, but the pause supplied it. Faradeane looked down at him with pale, calm face. “Now, most men would be satisfied with that,” continued Mr. McAndrew, “but I’m not. I don’t want you to give me any information that shall go further toward convicting you. No, I could get that for myself, but I want you to tell me,” he rose and stretched out one forefinger, “_who did this murder?_” It was a strange and startling speech, and another man would have been thrown off his guard and committed himself; but Faradeane had steeled himself for all ordeals. “Be content,” he said, gravely, almost solemnly. “You have your evidence; act upon it, and do your duty, sir!” Mr. McAndrew reached for his hat at once. “Very good, sir!” he said, as if he accepted Faradeane’s response to his appeal as final. “I shall do my duty. Is there anything I can do for you--any message? You will communicate with your lawyers at once, of course?” Faradeane was silent for a moment, then he said: “I shall not need a lawyer.” The detective looked at him fixedly. “No lawyer! No counsel!” he said. “What lawyer, clever though he might be, could disprove the evidence?” said Faradeane, wearily. “You yourself have said it is conclusive.” Mr. McAndrew turned his hat round in his hands, still watching him. “Very good, sir; and there is nothing I can do--no message?” Faradeane went to the window, and his lips twitched.