"Nothing--nothing whatever." "Well, Mrs. Davenport, it will be absolutely necessary for us, in the face of the memorandum made on the leaf of his pocket-book, to have some theory of what took place. Can you suggest any theory?" He spoke gravely, impressively. His personal interest in her was again growing stronger than his professional interest in what he now regarded as her defence. He swore to himself that he would use not only all his skill as an advocate, but all his faculties as a man to extricate this beautiful woman from the horrible position in which he found her, and to assuage as much as might be the pains she would have to endure. Under the overwhelming spell of her rich comeliness, and in front of the evidence afforded by her presence here this afternoon, he reproached himself bitterly for the suspicion he had uttered the day before as to her fleeing from the country. It was brutal of him to think of such a thing then, and still more brutal of him to speak his thoughts. She did not reply to his last question at once. She looked at him steadily, without flinching, but remained silent. He spoke again, this time earnestly, almost passionately: "Mrs. Davenport, if you give me any theory to go on, I promise you, upon my word of honour as a man, to make the most I can of it. I'll leave no stone unturned to put things in their best light. I'll work without ceasing; I'll do nothing else, think of nothing else until I see you through this ordeal. I will not ask you again for any confidence you wish to withhold from me. But if out of justice to yourself you will not, out of justice to me you _must_ give me something to go on. You _must_ give me at least a theory." He spoke to her eagerly, fiercely, and held out his hands towards her in supplication. She dropped her eyes a moment as if to collect her thoughts, and then looking straight into his face once more, said with a slight tremor in her voice: "I have a theory; but I am afraid it is not one that will meet with your approval." "If it is the best you can give me, trust me to do the best that can be done with it. But, for heaven's sake, give me the best one you can. Give me a chance. All I want is a chance to show you my devotion--to your interests." He felt he was being carried away by the irresistible magic of her eyes. He paused after the word "devotion," and spoke the final phrase of his speech in a less fervent tone, to modify by matter and manner what had gone before. "There is," she said, unclasping and then clasping her hands again, "but one theory possible in the case. As I told you a moment ago, Mr. Davenport was at one period of his life subject to delusions----" "Pardon me," interrupted Pringle; "you said awhile ago that you had no experience of your own as to this infirmity. I assume we shall be able to produce evidence to prove that?" "Undoubtedly there will be evidence."