He came at last, slinking up from the mouth of the alley where a single street-light spread a dim glow in which he resolved himself for a moment in transit, only to be blotted out again as if by some magic process. With narrowed, anxious eyes and alert ears she waited, standing there in the half-open door of the carriage-house. Suddenly he grew up out of the darkness, almost at her side. "Tom," she cried out softly. He came straight to her. His eyes, used to the darkness and made keen by the ever-present sense of danger, had seen the faintly white splotch in the night that marked her face for him. He had seen and had waited to make sure that it was she who stood there peering forth. "Well, I'm here," he said in a hoarse, restrained whisper. "Have you heard what's happened?" "They are not pursuing you? What is it, Tom?" "Grand has been murdered, Mary!" For a full minute they stood as motionless as statues, he listening for the footstep that had been in his ears for days, she stunned by the appalling news. Her voice was shrill with agony when she finally broke the silence--agony, despair, horror, all combined in one bitter cry. "_You promised me you wouldn't do that!_" "Sh! Be careful," he whispered, coming close to her side. "I _didn't_ do it, Mary,--so help me, I _didn't!_ Wait! Listen to me! I'm telling you the truth." She had fallen back against the wall of the building. Her breathing was quick, as if horror was strangling her. "They caught the murderers,--a couple of gamblers at Broadso's, I heard. I didn't hear much about it. The newsboys were shouting it over in Broadway half an hour ago. I bought a paper, but it gave no details,--except that he is dead." "He is dead? Oh, Tom, Tom, you _do_ swear to me that you had no hand in it. I couldn't bear that now." Her arms were spread out against the building, her hands clenched. In the darkness he could see her eyes, wide and staring. "I swear it, Mary. I was not within a mile of Broadso's. I am as innocent of that murder as you are. You will know the truth to-morrow, even if you don't believe me now. I'll never hear the true story. Oh, I don't mind saying I would have given my very soul to have been the one to do it. Maybe you think I'm pleased that he is dead. Well, I'm not! I begrudge those fellows the pleasure they had in killing him. But, this is not the time or place to talk. Let's say good-by here, Mary. You go back to the house. Let me go and do it alone." She swayed toward him. He caught her on his arm,--an arm of iron. She put her hand to his face. "Tom," she whispered, "God has taken a hand in our affairs--in yours. You must believe in God! You must give yourself to Him to-night."