They sat side by side on the ground, nursing their knees and looking out through the mosquito curtain at the little temple outlined against the pale sky. Their shoulders pressed warmly together. That contact deprived Pen of the power of thinking, and she moved away a little. That hurt him; she knew it by the hang of his head. But she went doggedly ahead with her story. When she came to the end Don said bitterly: "Well I've had plenty of time to-day to think things over. There's only one course open to me. I've got to give myself up." Pen had expected this. "Wait!" she said urgently. "We must talk things over. You must read the papers I brought you before you make up your mind. You don't know yet what you're up against. I don't understand what makes the newspapers so bitter. Everybody who reads the stories is roused to a sort of craze to hunt you down. What sort of a trial would you get? Why they were even ready to arrest me because I took your part!" Don was wildly indignant. "You have to go through such things while I sit here in safety!" he cried. "That was nothing," said Pen. "He didn't mean it really." "I can't stand it!" cried Don. "You don't know what I'm going through. Sitting here idle thinking about these things. I'd go out of my mind!" "I do know what you're going through," murmured Pen. "Suppose I did get away," he went on. "Would my life be worth saving with this accusation hanging over me? What sort of a life would I lead?" "But the truth must come to light!" insisted Pen. "We will bring it to light." "How can I fight for myself tied hand and foot like this?" "You could use me," she murmured. "That's just it!" he said bitterly. "I couldn't!" "You haven't much of an opinion of women, have you?" "You don't understand me. I don't doubt but you're a whole lot cleverer than I. But I have my pride. What would you think of a man who..." He ended with a shrug. "We just argue round in a circle," said Pen dejectedly. "So it seems." "It's a waste of time," she said more firmly. "Let us talk things over first and find out where we're at. Your first thought was that it was a case of suicide." "I've changed my mind," he said. "Dongan hadn't the nerve. He was the sort of man to cling to life. Besides the loss of seventy-five thousand wasn't a knock-out blow to him. He could have raised the money." "Then it was murder," said Pen. "That agrees with the doctor's evidence. Who do you think killed him?" "I swear I don't know," said Don helplessly. "I've been beating my brains all day without being able to hit out an idea. His life was as open as daylight." "You knew him well?"