The lawyer shook his head. "I don't blame you, Brent," he said, "for you don't know him as I do. I have seen much of him lately, been often with him, watched him under stress--for he doesn't deceive himself, he has no thought of acquittal! We none of us knew Hugh Stires. We put him down for a shallow, vulgar blackleg, without redeeming qualities. But the man we are trying is a gentleman, a refined and cultivated man of taste and feeling. I have learned his true character during these days." "Well," said the other, "if you believe in him, so much the better. You'll make the better speech for it. Tell me one thing--where was Miss Holme?" "I don't know." The doctor raised his eyebrows. "Good-by," he said. "I'll send over the coffee and sandwiches," he added as he turned away. "She thinks he is guilty!" he said to himself as he walked up the street. "She thinks he is guilty, too!" CHAPTER XLVI FACE TO FACE To stand face to face with Harry Sanderson--that had been Jessica's sole thought. The news that the bishop, with the man she suspected, was speeding toward her--to pass the very town wherein Hugh stood for his life--seemed a prearrangement of eternal justice. When the telegram reached her, she had already gone by Twin Peaks. To proceed would be to pass the coming train. At a farther station, however, she was able to take a night train back, arriving again at Twin Peaks in the gray dawn of the next morning. At the dingy station hotel there she undressed and lay down, but her nerves were quivering and she could not close her eyes. Toward noon she dressed and forced herself to breakfast, realizing the need of strength. She spent the rest of the time of waiting walking up and down in the crisp air, which steadied her nerves and gave her a measure of control. When the train for which she waited came in, the curtained car at its end, she did not wait for the bishop to find her on the platform, but stepped aboard and made her way slowly back. It started again as she threaded the last Pullman, to find the bishop on its rear platform peering out anxiously at the receding station. He took both her hands and drew her into the empty drawing-room. He was startled at her pallor. "I know," he said pityingly. "I have heard." She winced. "Does Aniston know?" "Yes," he answered. "Yesterday's newspapers told it." She put her hand on his arm. "Can you guess why I was coming home?" she asked. "It was to tell Harry Sanderson! I know of the fire," she went on quickly, "and of his injury. I can guess you want to spare him strain or excitement, but I must tell him!" "It is a matter of physical strength, Jessica," he said. "He has been a sick man. Forgive my saying it, child, but--what good could it do?"