A new light shone in Annie's eyes. What was this woman's misery to her? Her duty was to the poor fellow who was counting the hours until she could set him free. His stepmother deserved no mercy. Utterly selfish, devoid of a spark of humanity, she would have left them both to perish in order to protect herself from shame and ridicule. Her face was set and determined as she said calmly: "It must be done now." "Yes," murmured Alicia in a low tone that sounded like a sob, "it must be done now! Oh, if I'd only done it before--if I'd only told Mr. Jeffries the whole truth! You speak of Howard's sufferings. If he didn't do it, he has at least the consciousness of his own innocence, but I--the constant fear of being found out is worse than any hell the imagination can conjure up. I dreaded it--I dread it now--it means disgrace--social ostracism--my husband must know--the whole world will know." Annie was not listening. Still bewildered, she gazed with the utmost astonishment at her companion. To think that this mysterious woman they had been seeking was Howard's stepmother. "So you're the missing witness we've all been hunting for!" she said; "I can't believe it even now. How did it happen?" Alicia explained in short, broken sentences: "He and I were once engaged. I broke it off when I found him out. After I married Mr. Jeffries I met Underwood again. Foolishly, I allowed the old intimacy to be renewed. He took advantage and preyed on my friends. I forbade him my house. He wrote me a letter in which he threatened to kill himself. I was afraid he meant it--I wanted to prevent him. I went to his rooms that night. I--didn't tell Mr. Jeffries. When the truth is known and I acknowledge that I visited this man--can you see what it means?--what a fuss there'll be? Everybody will put the worst construction on it----" "Trust them for that!" said Annie grimly. She was sorry for the woman's distress, yet, being only human, she felt a certain sense of satisfaction in seeing her suffer a little of what she had been made to suffer. "They'll say that I--God knows what they'll say!" went on Alicia distractedly. "My husband will be dragged through the mire of another public scandal--his social prestige will--oh, I dare not think of it--I know--I know--my duty is to that unfortunate boy. I mustn't think of myself." "Have you the letter that Mr. Underwood wrote you?" demanded her companion. "Yes--I've never been able to destroy it. I don't know why I kept it, but thank God I have it!" Moaning, she went on: "The disgrace!--the disgrace!--it's ruin!--degradation! It's the end of everything!--the end of everything!" Annie regarded with contempt this poor, weak, wailing creature who lacked the moral courage to do what was merely right. Yet her voice was not unkind as she said: "I don't want to disgrace you--or ruin you. But what am I to do--tell me, what am I to do?" "I don't know," moaned her companion helplessly. "Howard must be saved." "Yes."