What a mockery! Mr. Stowell her judge! What would he do? His "duty" of course. All right, let him do it! Only she, too, would do something. After he had tried her and sentenced her and finished with her, she would tell him something. Why shouldn't she? And what did she care what happened to anybody else? Fenella Stanley was nothing to her. Suddenly she thought again about Alick Gell. If she did what she intended to do (tell everything) Alick also would be disgraced. The shame of her misfortune would follow him to the last day of his life. Even his own father would cast it up to him. Hadn't she done enough harm to Alick already? If he had deserted her, she had deceived him. And yet she had deceived him only because she loved him. "Alick! Alick! Alick!" Her heart was crying. She was wishing she were dead. She had flung herself down on her plank bed, with her face to the blank wall, when she heard the dead beating of footsteps in the corridor outside. At the next moment the door of her cell was opened and Tommy Vondy, the jailer, was saying, "Mr. Alexander Gell, the advocate, to see you alone." III "Bessie!" The jailer had gone. Alick was breathing quickly in the darkness by the door, and Bessie was huddled up on the bed, with the dull ray of reflected light upon her from the wall above. "Bessie!" His voice was low and full of tears. At first she did not answer. "It's Alick. Won't you speak to me?" "Go away!" He could hear that she was crying. "You won't send me away, Bessie. I have been looking for you all over the island. It was only to-day I heard where you were and what had happened. I have come to help you--to save you." He saw the dark form rising on the bed. "Do you know what they say I did?" "Yes, I know everything." "And you don't believe it?" "Not one word of it." "You think I am innocent?" "I am sure you are." "Alick!" With a great sob that shook her whole body she rose to her feet and flung herself upon him. For a long time they stood clasped in each other's arms, and crying like children. Then they sat down side by side on the plank bed. His arm was about her, and her head was on his shoulder. He was trying to make his voice cheerful, though it cracked sorely, while he reproved her for her tears. She would soon be free to leave that place. There was really nothing against her. Never had there been such a trumped-up case. The police must be crazy. She clung to him with a frightened tenderness while he told her of the letter from Fenella Stanley asking him to take up the defence on behalf of the Society. "Of course I should have taken it up in any case, you know. And now you must authorise me to defend you." She was startled. In the half darkness he saw her pale face (so pale and so thin) raised to his with a frightened look. "You?" "Why not, dear? I'm an advocate. You don't suppose I'm going to leave your defence to anybody else, do you?" "No, no! You must not!"