She made no answer, but I observed that her face grew suddenly white, as had been the case with Madame Lourbet when I made a good shot. In dealing with self-willed women this is always a satisfactory sign. My observation of the tender sex leads me to another conclusion--the most obstinate of them when the barriers are broken down show the most fear, and are the most subservient and submissive, though I am bound to say this was not exactly the case with Mrs. Fordham. But then she was an exceptional woman, and she hated John Fordham as only a woman can hate. "Who is in the house besides yourselves?" I asked. "You wouldn't have dared to molest us," she answered, "if we had protectors." "Answer the question," I said sternly. "You know that we are alone in the house." "Go and see," I said to my two assistants. "I can take care of these." They departed on their errand, and until their return, when they informed me that the house was empty except for those who were in this room, not a word was exchanged between me and Mrs. Fordham. As for Louis, he had taken no part in the conversation. He was evidently ruled by his mother, for he kept his eyes upon her, and took his cue for silence from her. "Now," said I, "we are here upon very serious business, and I don't want you to incriminate yourselves. I have had an interview with one lady to-day--a friend of yours, Madame Lourbet, provision dealer, Soho--. and after some stupid reluctance on her part, I put it to her whether she would treat me as a friend or an enemy. If it had been as an enemy she would have been in prison by this time. I should have had her arrested. But she acted like a sensible woman, and accepted me as her friend, recognizing that it was her only chance of being kept out of the criminal dock. The consequence is, she is free--and safe." I repeated the last two words. "And safe. I offer you the same chance. If, without incriminating yourselves, you can do as she did, I advise you to follow her lead. If it is to be the other way, blame yourselves for the course I shall take." Louis made a motion, as though about to speak, but his mother restrained him. "Be silent," she said. "Pray what course do you propose to take?" "I shall arrest you, Mrs. Fordham, and you, Louis Fordham, on the charge of complicity in the murder of a man known as Morgan, over a year ago in Liverpool." Louis staggered, and caught at the mantelpiece for support, and Mrs. Fordham rushed to his side. I remembered what John Fordham wrote in his Confession about the love she bore her son, and I now had evidence of it. "You are not very strong," I said, stating a palpable fact. "Probably you still feel the effects of the wound you received on the night Morgan was murdered." And now Louis was not to be restrained. "What do you know of it?" he screamed. "What do you know of it?"