He closed the door, and locked and chained and bolted it, and then I heard the footsteps of the two grow fainter and fainter until silence came. Then I lit my pipe and poured out a glass of wine--for in these respects I am allowed what I choose--and sat down to think. But I found it hard to give my thoughts to anything. There was a hollow somewhere in my mind into which all serious thoughts fell jumbled. I felt neither pained nor confused, but only vacuous. I battled with this feeling until I subdued it. Then I grasped the situation firmly. What object have I, here and now, and everywhere and always, next to the rectitude of my own soul? There is only one answer to that question: Cecilia's happiness! How to secure that here?--how to save it from the horrible perils which everywhere surround it? Is it to be done by securing her union for life with her brother's murderer? If I know one thing of Arthur Clyde--whom I know well--it is this: that such a crime as that I charge him with, committed under whatsoever provocation, will weigh him down for ever, and make life a perpetual hell to him. The hideous injustice of a union with such a man she must not suffer, whatsoever else she suffer. And that she, like the rest of us, _must_ suffer, is too clear. But of this I am assured: To learn that her lover is her brother's murderer, and not only that, but that by his silence he accuses a friend who is innocent, would break her heart beyond all the remedy of hope and years. That shall not be. It seemed little more than an hour when I heard footsteps again approaching my door. They paused on reaching it, and the jar of bolt and chain and lock succeeded. The door opened and closed again. I did not turn or look round until a hand was laid on me, and a voice, strange to me for a year, called me by my name. Then I was indeed amazed. 'Mr. Gregory! You here?' 'My poor fellow! I reached Naples last night, and found the town ringing with the news of an arrest for murder. But what I can't understand is, that now they've got the real fellow, they don't let you go.' 'Never mind me,' I answered. 'Do they know in England--Miss Grammont and Cecilia?' 'They are with me here,' he answered quickly. 'They know that you are arrested for murder, and scout the idea, of course. But they don't know of their brother's death yet. I want to run them both away and let them learn the news more tenderly than they will do here, but I must see you through this miserable business. How did the fools come to suspect _you_, of all men in the world?' 'Suspicion was natural,' I answered. 'I was found near the spot directly after the discovery of the body.' 'What brought you there?' 'I was on my way home to Posilipo. The night was fine, and I was in a mood for walking.' 'But you were found insensible, or something of the sort, weren't you?'