"It's all talk," cried Annie indignantly--"nothing but scandal--lies! There's not a word of truth in it. Howard never had a jealous thought of me--and as for me--why--I've always worshiped the ground he walked on. Didn't he sacrifice everything for my sake? Didn't he quarrel with his father for me? Didn't he marry me? Didn't he try to educate and make a lady of me? My God!--do you suppose I'd give a man like that cause for jealousy? What do the newspapers care? They print cruel statements that cut into a woman's heart, without giving it a thought, without knowing or caring whether it's true or not, as long as it interests and amuses their readers. You--you don't really believe I'm the cause of his misfortunes, do you?" Alicia shook her head as she answered kindly: "No, I don't. Believe me, I don't. You were right when you said that at such a time as this one woman should stand by another. I'm going to stand by you. Let me be your friend, let me help you." Extending her hand, she said: "Will you?" Annie grasped the proffered hand. It was the first that had been held out to her in her present trouble. A lump rose in her throat. Much affected, she said: "It's the first kind word that----" She stopped and looked closely for a moment at Alicia. Then she went on: "It's the queerest thing, Mrs. Jeffries, but it keeps coming into my mind. Howard told me that while he was at Underwood's that dreadful night he thought he heard your voice. It must have been a dream, of course, yet he thought he was sure of it. Your voice--that's queer, isn't it? Why--what's the matter?" Alicia had grown deathly pale and staggered against a chair. Annie ran to her aid, thinking she was ill. "It's nothing--nothing!" stammered Alicia, recovering herself. Fearing she had said something to hurt her feelings, Annie said sympathetically: "I haven't said anything--anything out of the way--have I? If I have I'm sorry--awfully sorry. I'm afraid--I--I've been very rude and you've been so kind!" "No, no!" interrupted Alicia quickly. "You've said nothing--done nothing--you've had a great deal to bear--a great deal to bear. I understand that perfectly." Taking her companion's hand in hers, she went on, "Tell me, what do they say about the woman who went to see Robert Underwood the night of the tragedy?" "The police can't find her--we don't know who she is." Confidently she went on: "But Judge Brewster will find her. We have a dozen detectives searching for her. Captain Clinton accused me of being the woman--you know he doesn't like me." The banker's wife was far too busy thinking of the number of detectives employed to find the missing witness to pay attention to the concluding sentence. Anxiously she demanded: "Supposing the woman is found, what can she prove? What difference will it make?"