“Oh, Mrs. Pelham, what utter nonsense!” said Barbara. The accusation was so monstrous, so unfounded, that her first feeling was one of relief. She even gave a strange and hollow laugh. “What nonsense!” she repeated. “Dick accused of murdering Piers! Dick, who loved him! Mrs. Pelham, has anybody gone mad?” “My poor child, I don’t wonder at your taking it like this. I felt somewhat as you do at the first moment, but it is all too, too true. I thought, of course, you must know by this time.” “Tell me more—tell me quickly. Where is Dick now?” “He was examined before the magistrate this morning, Barbara. I was there—I had to be present. He is remanded until—until——” “I do not understand,” said Barbara. “It is so ridiculous. I know you are trying to tell me the most awful thing in the world, but it is so utterly false that I cannot feel it.” She laughed again; her laugh sounded awful. “Just tell me the whole story from beginning to end,” she said. “I will, dear. I am most terribly sorry for you.” “But are you not sorry for him? You surely do not believe it?” “Oh, my poor Barbara, my poor Barbara!” “Really, I think you must have gone mad, too,” said Barbara. “Such a monstrous accusation, and you look quite solemn! What has become of the laws of England when they accuse the most innocent man in the world?” “Barbara, dear, it does not look so. I am bound to say that the circumstantial evidence is very, very grave. Oh, it has all come suddenly, and I had to prosecute. Yes, I know I am your enemy, Barbara.” “Then you have done this?” said Barbara, slowly. She backed away from Mrs. Pelham, her face as white as death. The arrows were beginning now to pierce her soul. “You have done this?” she repeated. “How could I help it, Barbara? My only child! And it seems to me to be so abundantly proved. Dick gave him that last dose of medicine. Some one put something into the medicine—hyocene. It is dreadful stuff—a most fatal poison. It has been proved, or almost proved, that Dick did it.” “And they say that Dick gave that medicine with that dreadful poison in it to Piers, and you believe it—you think he did it? But Piers was supposed to die of heart disease.” “This particular medicine would affect the heart strongly, and the disease which was mentioned in the death certificate would to all appearance occur. It was a clever scheme. Barbara, circumstantial evidence is heavy against your husband.” “I know now what something Dick said in his letter means,” cried Barbara. “‘The machinations of the wicked.’ I know what that expression means now.”