The horror of this accusation had come home to Vincent's mind at last. He saw, as if by a sudden flash of dreadful enlightenment, not guilt indeed, or its awful punishment, but open shame--the disgrace of publicity--the horrible suspicions which were of themselves more than enough to kill the unhappy girl. He made a great effort to speak, but could not for the moment. He thrust in the white soft garments which were hanging out of it, into that familiar bag, which somehow gave him a pang more acute than all the terrible news he was hearing. He had travelled with it himself on innocent boyish journeys, had seen it in his mother's innocent hands--and now to find it in this shuddering atmosphere of crime and mystery! He too shuddered as he roused himself to speak. "Hush--hush," said Vincent, "you mistake, my sister has nothing to do with it; I--I can prove that--easily," said the minister, getting the words out with difficulty. "Tell me how it all happened--when they came here, what passed; for instance----" He paused, and his eye caught another evidence of the reality of his horrible position. It was the blue veil which he had followed and described, and looked for through all these weary hours. He took it up in his hand, crushing it together with an almost ungovernable impulse of rage, from where it had been thrown down on the shabby carpet. "For instance," said Susan's brother, restraining himself, "where is the girl who wore this? You said Miss Vincent went away alone--where was the other? was she left behind--is she here?"