"I want you to tell me _all_ you know about this man Fahey. Mind, you are to tell me all. There is no use in concealing anything now. I will not take a penny of that money. Speak plainly." "Not take the money, Marion! Are you mad?" he exclaimed, starting forward on his chair. "Not yet. The future of my reason will depend a good deal on the plainness of your speech. Go on." "But I have told you all that is worth telling." "Tell it to me all over again, and this time add everything, great or little, you can think of, you can recollect. Let me judge what is worth listening to, and what is not. I am waiting." "I know next to nothing of Fahey, and never saw the man in all my life. You are allowing this absurd story of his ghost to prey on you. You will make yourself ill." "Nothing is so bad as uncertainty. I am racked by uncertainty. Go on if you wish to do me a service." "Service! I'd die for your sake, Marion." "Then speak for my sake." She did not move or show any interest one way or the other in his words, although they had been spoken pleadingly, passionately. "At Florence, when he was seized by that delusion, he raved now and then, and in his ravings he said continually that there was a plot to rob and murder him. He did not include me in the conspiracy, but all others were leagued against him. At times he would become furious, and defy his imaginary foes, swearing that all of them together were powerless against him, as Fahey was loyal, and would be loyal to the death." "Loyal in what?" "I don't know. He did not say in either his sane or frantic moments." "What _did_ he say?" "That Fahey knew, but that no power on earth would drag the secret out of Fahey." "What secret?" "How should I know?" "Do you know?" "Upon my soul, Marion, I do not." "Well, and after that what would happen?" "He would laugh and snap his fingers at imaginary conspirators, and dare them to do their worst, and then he would break out into a laugh of triumph. And, as I hope to live, Marion, that's all." "Every word?" "Every syllable, I swear to you. Marion, I could not tell you a lie. Marion, I never loved you until now. If you bid me, I will die for you. If you tell me, I will go away and never see you again. Try me. Bid me go or bid me die. Tell me to do anything, if you will only believe I love you as I never loved you before--as I never loved any other woman in the world. Since you will not forgive me, since you will not give me your love for mine, since you will not let me be near you or see you, set me something to do by which I can show you I am sincere--madly in earnest." He bent towards her, and held out his hands, but did not leave his chair. His voice, his whole frame shook with excitement. She raised her hand and lowered it gently, as a signal that he was to be still and silent. He drew his arms and his body quickly back, and sat mutely regarding her.