"No doubt it is safe, and we are happy that it should be in your keeping. May I ask if you came to guess it solely from those letters which this unhappy pair opened; or did any other circumstance----?" "Solely through that accident." "You feel convinced that this knowledge was only shared by these two?" "I quite think so. Adam will never tell. He is as safe as I am." "And the woman is dead." For the first time Durgan put the two circumstances together. He felt vexed. "You will naturally suppose," said Alden, "that when Adam is tried, my clients will go into court and give evidence as to his excellent character. But if it is possible to prevent it, they must not do that. It was never by my advice that they secluded themselves and took an assumed name; it was Bertha who insisted upon seclusion. I would have preferred that they had had strength to live in the open. I should not have greatly cared had all the country found out who they were, but for this crime, which is the most unfortunate that could have happened at their doors. Their identity must now be hid, if it is possible without wickedness." Durgan had been trying jealously to find some element of falsity beneath the Northerner's quiet face and dapper exterior. Now he no longer doubted his sincerity. The lawyer sat looking absently down where the beautiful valley lay in all its summer tranquillity, framed in the peace of the eternal hills, and Durgan saw the beads of sweat break upon his brow. He was convinced that he had more than the interest of clients at stake, that his whole heart was in some way concerned in this matter. Alden spoke slowly. "I have known these women since Bertha was a mere girl. Eight years ago I was working in the same mission school with the elder sister. For three years we met twice a week, with the most sacred of all interests in common. Constantly I had the pleasure of walking to or fro with her, and we talked together on the great theme of religion. After that I knew her intimately in the midst of the greatest sorrows a woman could endure. I have strengthened our friendship by every means in my power ever since. Is it possible that I could be mistaken in her character?" His small blue eyes had grown deeper and bluer as he spoke; the lines about them also deepened. Sorrow, and that of the nobler sort, was written there. Durgan liked him. "I am sure that our friend is a true woman," said he. "And yet, Mr. Durgan, she is publicly believed to have committed the most barbarous of crimes. She is Hermione Claxton." Durgan uttered an exclamation of dismay. The two men turned from each other with mute accord.