"As it was, Tracey's discovery of the diary led to the detection of Fane, and Fane's confession led to the production of the locket which Mrs. Brand held in her dead hand. Then Bocaros grew frightened and told the truth. The result was that I was in danger of arrest, and, with the locket, the crime would most certainly have been brought home to me. "I sought shelter with my wife, but she shot me. She said she thought I was a burglar. I suppose she did, and----" Here Laura interrupted the reading. "Surely Mrs. Baldwin did think he was a burglar," she said indignantly. "Of course," said Arnold quickly; "for certain she did, Laura. Had she known he was her husband, little as she loved him, she would not have fired the shot. And you remember the jury brought in a verdict exonerating Mrs. Baldwin." "I'm glad of that," said Laura thoughtfully. "Read on, dear." "There's no more," said Arnold, returning the confession to his pocket. "I shall put this in the deed-box at Laing and Merry's, to be used should occasion arise, though I don't think it ever will. So that ends the whole matter. We can get married as soon as possible, Laura, and thank heaven our troubles are over." While Laura and Arnold were thus talking in one room, Mrs. Fane was having a conversation with her husband in another. Walter Fane, bowed with shame, was half lying on the sofa, and Mrs. Fane was pacing the room. He had just confessed all, and his wife's cheeks were crimson with anger. "O you coward--you mean, pitiful coward!" she said fiercely, "how dare you marry me, to bring me to this shame! I thought you were only a fool. But you are a knave and worse than a knave. That poor creature's death lies at your door." "I did not kill her," moaned Fane, burying his face in the cushions. "Not in fact, but otherwise you did. Had you not led this double life the tragedy would never have happened." "Well, it has happened and everything's at an end," said Fane, sitting up sullenly. "Calvert has stifled all inquiry. Nothing will ever be known, unless you give the thing away." "What do you take me for?" cried Mrs. Fane, turning on him. "Do you think I am going to pose as a disgraced woman with your friends and mine? I made you confess something of this when you came back to Southend. I shielded you in my interview with Bocaros, so that you should not be suspected. But I never thought Mrs. Brand was your wife--you liar!" "What's the use of calling names?" said Fane, still sulky. "None--none. I have a good mind to leave you for good and all." "Why don't you, then?"