“It’s--false,” came from her dry lips. “You lie!” “It’s false! It’s false!” “Of course you deny it. A woman would not hesitate at another lie, whose trade it is to make friends and sell them to their death. God, what shall I do to you? You woman Judas!” It was less the fear of the fate she thought she saw in his rageful face than the frantic desire to escape this awful accusation from the man she loved, that prompted her to cry out desperately: “It’s false! You’ve been deceived! I’m innocent!” “You lie, I say. Your guilt is all over your face!” He thought of Sonya, Sonya inspired by the holy desire to help her people out of their bitter suffering--betrayed! His eyes blazed with a yet fiercer wrath. “I should kill you as ruthlessly as you kill others.” “I’m innocent! I’m innocent!” she gasped. “And you have the effrontery to say that after what you did to-night!” “What I--what I--” A dazed look came into her face. “What I did to-night?” “Yes, what you did to-night! Betrayed our plan, sold it to the Government!” “Is that your only accusation?” “God--is it not enough!” She gave a cry of relief. “I swear to you I’m innocent,” she cried eagerly. “I swear to you I had nothing to do with to-night’s affair, except to warn you. I swear it!” “Swear it--but I won’t believe you!” “I’m not the spy who betrayed you!” she cried frantically. “I’m not, I tell you! I’m not!” His fierce, hard face was unchanged. “And I tell you--you lie!” There was a ring at the door. The reply to him died upon her lips. Her face went ashen. “Quick--quick!” she whispered. “It’s not safe for you here!” She clutched his arm and pointed to a door hung with portières of crimson silk. “Go through the hall, and out the rear entrance. No! Not that!” Her face lighted with sudden desperate purpose. “Step behind the portières there, and I will prove my innocence!” “Prove? How?” “I will show you the real spy! I will make him tell you all!” He looked at her darkly. “Is this just a trick to escape, or--” “S-s-sh! Not so loud!” “Or is the real spy at the door?” “The real spy is at the door.” His face lit with a vengeful joy. “Then I stay here!” The door-bell rang again. “No, no, no!” she implored, frantically. “You do not understand your danger! It may be your death!” “It may be his!” said Drexel. “Oh! Oh!” She twisted her hands in agony. “Are you armed?” “I am not. But my hands are enough.” “You must go!” she cried. “Don’t you see--to stay may be your death! Please--please!” And she tried to push him toward the curtains. “I shall stay. Open the door,” he ordered grimly. “Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?” Again she wrung her hands. “Listen! It would be foolish to meet him now. Wait, you can see him again--when you are armed. Besides, will you not give me a chance to prove my innocence? Don’t you wish to know the truth? I will make him tell everything--everything!” He wavered. She saw it, and again tried to press him out. “Go--please--please!”