‘Leave my husband!’ exclaimed Laura. ‘Leave him in grief and trouble! How could you think me capable of such a thing?’ And then she drew the Vicar aside, and in a tremulous voice, which was little more than a whisper, said to him, ‘Dear Mr. Clare, try not to think evil of my husband, for my sake. I know that he has sinned; but he has been sorely tempted. He could not judge the extent of the wrong he was doing. Tell me that you do not suspect him as he has been suspected; that you are not influenced by Edward’s cruel words. You do not believe that he killed his wife?’ ‘No, my dear,’ answered the Vicar decidedly. ‘First and foremost he is a Treverton, and comes of a stock I love and honour; and, secondly, I have lived in friendship with him for the last six months; and I don’t think I’m such a fool that I could live so long upon intimate terms with a murderer and not find him out. No, my dear, I believe your husband has been weak and guilty; but I do not believe--I never will believe--that he has been a cold-blooded-assassin.’ ‘God bless you for those words,’ said Laura as the Vicar left her. ‘If Mrs. Treverton will go to bed and get a little rest after all this agitation, I shall be glad of some further conversation with you before I go home,’ said Sampson, when the door had closed upon Mr. Clare. Laura assented, turning her white, weary face to her husband, with a look full of trust and love, as he went with her to the bottom of the staircase. ‘God bless and keep you, love,’ he whispered. ‘You have shown me the way out of all my difficulties. I can afford to lose everything except your affection.’ He went back to Tom Sampson, who was scribbling in his note-book, in a brown study. ‘Now, Sampson, we are alone. What have you to say to me?’ ‘A great deal. You’ve got yourself into a pretty fix. Why didn’t you trust me from the beginning? What’s the use of a man having a lawyer if he keeps his affairs dark?’ ‘We won’t go into that question now,’ said John Treverton. ‘I want your advice about the future, not your lamentations over the past. What do you recommend me to do?’ ‘Get away from this place to-night, on the best horse in your stable. Take the first train at the furthest station you can reach by daybreak to-morrow. Let me see. It’s not much over thirty miles to Exeter. You might get to Exeter on a good horse.’ ‘No doubt. But what would be gained by such a course?’ ‘You would get out of the way before you could be arrested on suspicion of being concerned in your first wife’s murder.’ ‘Who is going to arrest me?’ ‘Edward Clare means mischief. I am sure of that. If he has not already given information to the police, depend upon it he will do so without delay.’