"North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?"