A minute later and they were in the infirmary, where, looking white and pinched of aspect, Fred Denville lay, with a regimental nurse at his side. The man rose, and left the side of the bed, for Claire to take his seat. "He is to be kept very quiet, ma'am. Doctor's orders," said the man respectfully. "I shall be just outside if you want anything." Fred was lying with his eyes half closed, but he heard the voice and opened them, recognised his visitors, and tried to raise his hand, but it fell back upon the coverlid. "Claire?" he said in a voice little above a whisper. "An officer?" He smiled sadly, and then seemed half choked by a sob, as Claire threw herself on her knees by him and Morton went to the other side, bent over, and laid his hand upon that lying helpless upon the coverlid. "Fred, old fellow," said Morton in a husky voice. He could say no more, but stood looking down upon the prostrate figure, awe-stricken at the ravages caused by the wound. "Fred--dearest Fred," whispered Claire, kissing the hand she held. The wounded man groaned. "No, no," he said faintly. "You should not be here; I am no fit company for you now." "Oh, Fred, dear Fred," cried Claire passionately, "how could you charge yourself with that dreadful crime?" "How?" he said faintly. "Because it must have been true. The poor old man saw me there, and found my knife upon the carpet." "It is impossible," sobbed Claire. "I thought so once," replied the wounded man, "but I suppose it's true. I often used to think of the old woman's jewels, and how useful they'd be. It seemed so easy, too, the way up there--eh, Morton?" "Yes, yes; but don't talk like that. Some scoundrel must have seen me climb up, and have gone there that night." "Yes," said Fred feebly, "some scoundrel who knew the way, but who, in his drunkenness, did not know what he did, and that scoundrel was I." "No, no, Fred!" cried Claire. "If you did it," said Morton quickly, "what became of the diamonds?" "The diamonds, lad?" "Yes. Did you have the jewels and sell them?" "Never a stone," said Fred slowly. "No, it's all like a cloud. It always is like a cloud over my mind when I've been having the cursed drink. It sends me mad." Claire gazed at him wildly. "You ought not to be here, Clairy. Take her away, lad. I'm no fit company for her. But tell me--the old man? They have set him free?" "No, not yet," said Morton sadly. "But he must be set free at once. Poor, weak old fellow! He has suffered enough. Morton, lad, go to him and try to get him out. Him kill the old woman? He hadn't it in him." Fred Denville turned so faint that he seemed to be losing his senses, but Claire bathed his face, and he recovered and smiled up at her.