"Hush, Marion!" The calm, sweet voice of the elder woman rose above the excitement and anguish of the singer. "Hush, my child; you have trusted too little in Him! God is great, and good and merciful. I can say it now; I will say it when His shadows fall upon my eyes as they must some day." Awed and touched, Cambia looked up into the glorified face and was silent. Neither broke that stillness, but as they waited a violent step was heard without, and a voice: "Infamous! Infamous!" Edward rushed into the room, pale and horrified, his bursting heart finding relief only in such words. "What is it, my son--Edward!" Mrs. Montjoy looked upon him reproachfully. "I am accused of the murder of Rita Morgan!" he cried. He did not see Cambia, who had drawn back from between the two, and was looking in horror at him as she slowly moved toward the door. "You accused, Edward? Impossible! Why, what possible motive----" "Oh, it is devilish!" he exclaimed, as he tore the American paper into shreds. "Devilish! First I was called her son, and now her murderer. I murdered her to destroy her evidence, is the charge!" The white face of Cambia disappeared through the door. CHAPTER XLV. THE MAN WITH THE TORCH. The startling news had been discussed in all its phases in the little parlor, Mary taking no part. She sat with averted face listening, but ever and anon when Edward's indignation became unrestrainable she turned and looked at him. She did not know that the paper contained a reference to her. The astounding revelation, aside from the accusation, was the wound. Strange that he had not discovered it. Who could have murdered poor Rita? Positively the only person on the immediate premises were Virdow, Evan and Gerald. Virdow was of course out of the question, and the others were in the room. It was the blow that had driven her head through the glass. What enemy could the woman have had? So far as he was concerned, the charge could amount to nothing; Evan was in the room with him; the general would surely remember that. But the horror, the mortification--he, Edward Morgan, charged with murder, and the center of a scandal in which the name of Mary Montjoy was mentioned. The passion left him; depressed and sick from reaction he sat alone in the little parlor, long after the ladies had retired; and then came the climax. A cablegram reached the house and was handed in to him. It was signed by Evan and read: "You have been indicted. Return." "Indicted," and for murder, of course. It gave him no uneasiness, but it thrust all light and sweetness from life. The dream was over. There could now be no search for Marion Evan. That must pass, and with it hope. He had builded upon that idea castles whose minarets wore the colors of sunrise. They had fallen and his life lay among the ruins.