"I must obey you," she said with a wan smile, "yet I would share your shame as proudly as your glory! You are thinking me weak and despicable, perhaps, because I wanted you to go away. But women are not men, and I--I love you so, Hugh!" "I think you are all that is brave and good," he protested. "I want you to believe," she went on, "that I knew you had done no murder. If an angel from Heaven had come to declare it, I would not have believed it. I only want now to understand." "What do you not understand?" he asked gently. She half turned toward the door, as she said, in a lower key: "Last night I was overwrought. I had no time to reason, or even to be glad that you had recovered your memory. I thought only of your escaping somewhere--where you would be safe, and where I could follow. But after you had gone, many things came back to me that seemed strange--something curious in your manner. You had not seemed wholly surprised when I told you you were accused. Why did you shut the cabin door, and speak so low? Was there any one else there when I came?" He averted his face, but he did not answer. She was treading on near ground. "My horse came back this afternoon," she continued. "He had been ridden hard in the night and his flanks were cut cruelly with a whip. You did not use him, but some one did." She waited a moment, still he made no reply. "I want to ask you," she said abruptly, "do you know who killed Doctor Moreau?" His blood chilled at the question. He looked down at her speechless. "You must let me speak," she said. "You won't answer that. Then you do know who really did it. Oh, I have thought so much since last night! For some reason you are shielding him. Was it the man who was in the cabin--who rode my horse? If he is guilty, why do you help him off, and so make yourself partly guilty?" He looked down at her and put a finger on her lips. "Do you remember what you told me last night--that you would believe what I did was for the best?" "But I thought then you were going away! How can I believe it now? Why, they hang men who murder, and it is you who are accused! If you protect the real murderer, you will have to stand in his place. The whole town believes you are guilty--I see it in all their faces. They are sorry, many of them, for they don't hate you as they did, but they think you did it. Even Mr. Felder, though I have told him what I suspect, and though he is working now to defend you!" "Jessica," he urged, "you must trust me and have faith in me. I know it is hard, but I can't explain to you! I can't tell you--yet--why I do as I am doing, but you must believe that I am right."