“She knew that day she was in my room, when I told her about Lois Margeritta. If there’s any doubt about it the letter I had from the Under-Secretary should set your mind at rest. She went to see him with the idea of getting further particulars about the--about the crime you were charged with committing. Mrs. Pinder, will you tell me something?” He dropped her arm and faced her. “I am an old man and haven’t a very long time to live, and I’ve lost most of the little faith in human nature I ever possessed. Were you innocent?” He paused. “Were you innocent or guilty?” “I was innocent.” She raised her eyes fearlessly to his. “What I have told you has been the truth. I went out to look for work, and when I came back I was arrested.” “What about your husband? Where was he?” She shook her head. “He was dead,” she said simply. “I didn’t know then, but I have learnt since. Doctor, do you believe that?” He nodded silently. “You’ve been wonderful to me, sir,” she said in a low sweet voice. “I wish I could repay you for your kindness.” “Well, you can,” he said in his gruff way. “When you get out into the world, you’re bound to meet some poor women who will suggest that you have your hair dyed red--don’t do it.” He found an especial pleasure in the soft laughter that his jest evoked. “And now you can come along and dine with my wife and me,” he said. “The only satisfaction I’ve ever got out of having a house within the prison walls.” At five minutes past ten that night a small saloon motor-car drew up before the gates of Telsbury Prison and the driver got down and pulled the bell. He was challenged, as usual, from the wicket. “I’ve called to take away Mrs. Pinder,” he said. “You had better come in and see the governor.” “I’d rather stay.” The driver lit a cigarette and paced to and fro to kill the time. But he had not long to wait; five minutes after, the little wicket-gate swung open and a woman stepped out. “Is that Mrs. Pinder?” asked the man in a voice little above a whisper. “Yes, it is I.” “Let me take your bag.” He opened the door of the car, pushed the bag inside and put out his hand to help her enter. Then, swinging into the driver’s seat, he closed both doors and sent the car spinning along the London road. In the shadow of the prison-gate the doctor watched the departure, and turned back with a sigh towards his office. Telsbury Prison had lost something of its interest with the passing of one whom the newspapers had described as “The Hereford Murderess.” Chapter Nineteen Lois Reddle was in no mood to return to Chester Square; but she was less willing to break faith with the woman whom she was beginning to dislike, and debated the question, she and Lizzy, on the Charlotte Street doorstep. “Let’s stay,” urged Lizzy. “At any rate, don’t let’s go back yet. We shan’t see anything of Selwyn. Besides, remember what Mike said.”