"Now, hold," said the general; "let's light our cigars. If it's to be the last chance." The negro touched the blazing match to splinters of lightwood, as the southern pitch pine is called when dry, and instantly he stood in a circle of light, his features revealed in every detail. Edward gazed into it curiously. Where had he seen that face? It came back like the lines of some unpleasant dream--the thick lips, the flat nose, the retreating forehead, full eyes and heavy eyelids, and over all a look of infinite stupidity. The negro had fixed his eyes a moment upon the articles in Edward's hand and stepped back quickly. But he recovered himself and with clumsy thanks, holding up his flaming torch, went away, leaving only the uncertain shadows dancing across the road. At home Gen. Evan threw aside all reserve. He drew their chairs up into the sheltered corner of the porch. "I have some matters to talk over," he said, "and our time is short. Yours is not a bailable case and we must have a speedy trial. The law winks at your freedom to-night; it will not do to compromise our friends in the court house by unnecessary delay. Edward, where was I when you discovered the body of the woman, Rita Morgan?" Edward looked through the darkness at his friend, who was gazing straight ahead. "You were standing by Gerald's bed, looking upon him." "How did you discover her? It never occurred to me to ask; were you not in the room also?" "I certainly was. She broke the glass by pressing against it, as I thought at the time, but now I see she was struck. I rushed out and picked her up, and you came when I called." "Exactly. And you both talked loudly out there." "Why do you ask?" "Because," said Evan, slowly, "therein lies the defect in our defense. I cannot swear you were in the room upon my own knowledge. I had been astounded by the likeness of Gerald to those who had been dear to me--I was absorbed. Then I heard you cry out, and found you in the yard." There was a long pause. Edward's heart began to beat with sledge-hammer violence. "Then," he said with a strange voice, "as the case would be presented, I was found with the body of the woman; she had been murdered and I was the only one who had a motive. Is that it?" "That is it." The young man arose and walked the porch in silence. "But that is not all," said Gen. Evan. "If it were, I would have cabled you to go east from Paris. There is more. Is there any one on earth who could be interested in your disgrace or death?" "None that I know of--that is, well, no; none that I know of. You remember Royson; we fought that out. He cannot cherish enmity against a man who fought him in an open field." "Perhaps you are mistaken." "From what do you speak?" "You had been in Paris but a few days when one night as I sat here your friend Barksdale--great man that Barksdale; a trifle heady and confident, but true as steel--Barksdale came flying on his sorrel up the avenue and landed here.