"Then there is truth in it," she answered, "for you know what I have not yet told you. It is true, then--your waking up--the silk noose! My God! my God!" and all the while she spoke in a hushed whisper, which made her words ten times more horrible, and sat motionless as stone. There was not even a tremor in the hands I held; they lay like ice in mine. "How do you know?" I said. "But I would have spared you this! You did not know, and I doubted you. Of course--of course you did not know. Good God! Why could not this secret have lain hid in me? I would have spared you the knowledge of it. I would have carried it down safe with me into my grave." Her face hardened as I spoke. She looked down and saw that I held her hands; she plucked them free. "You would have kept the secret safe," she said, steadily. "You liar! You told it this night to Cullen Mayle." Her words struck me like a blow in the face. I leaned back in my chair. She kept her eyes upon my face. "I--told it--to Cullen Mayle?" I repeated. She nodded her head. "To-night?" "Here in this room. My door was open. I overheard." "I did not know I told him," I exclaimed; and she laughed horribly and leaned back in the chair. All at once I understood, and the comprehension wrapped me in horror. The horror passed from me to her, though as yet she did not understand. She looked as though the world yawned wide beneath her feet. "Oh!" she moaned, and, "Hush!" said I, and I leaned forward towards her. "I did not know, just as you did not know that you went to the shed on Castle Down, that you brushed against me as you returned,--just as you did not know of what happened thereafter." She put her hands to her head and shivered. "Just as you did not know that four years ago when Cullen Mayle was turned from the door, he bade you follow him, and you obeyed," I continued. "This is Cullen Mayle's work--devil's work. He spun his watch to dazzle you four years ago; he did the same to-night, and made me tell him why his plan miscarried. Plan!" and at last I understood. I rose to my feet; she did the same. "Yes, plan! You told him you had bequeathed everything to him. He knew that tonight when I met him at St. Mary's. How did he know it unless you told him on Castle Down? He bade you go home, enter his room, where no one would hear you, and--don't you see? Helen! Helen!" I took her in my arms, and she put her hands upon my shoulders and clung to them. "I have heard of such things in London," said I. "Some men have this power to send you to sleep and make you speak or forget at their pleasure; and some have more power than this, for they can make you do when you have waked up what they have bidden you to do while you slept, and afterwards forget the act;" and suddenly Helen started away from me, and raised her finger. We both stood and listened. "I can hear nothing," I whispered.