“Really, madam,” protested the solicitor, now thoroughly certain that this woman and the urgent telegram were unpleasantly related. “Really, you know, I must beg you will call at some other time. Allow me to see you to your carriage.” “It will be necessary for you to hear me,” replied the lady firmly. “I see that you do not remember me, but we have met before. You were at Mr. Fair’s place in Norfolk about five years ago. You were presented to Mrs. Maxwell Fair. Well, I am she.” “Upon my word, dear madam,” exclaimed Marshall, jumping up, “I did, indeed, fail to recognize you. That’s a sign I’m getting old, is it not? This is an honor, really.” “Alas, sir, I fear that you will think it anything but that,” replied Mrs. Fair nervously. “I desire to state before going into the matter which brought me here that I am not the wife of Mr. Maxwell Fair—Mr. Fair never married. I see that this fills you with amazement—pray, don’t misjudge him. Believe me, Mr. Fair deserves your deepest regard and admiration. My children are not his children. He has been a father, a brother, a chivalrous protector—that is all.” “But, my dear madam, this is quite beyond belief,” stammered the solicitor. “It is the truth, as you will learn presently from him. I came here simply to tell you that, whatever Mr. Fair may say, my crime does not involve him, as it would of course do if I were his wife. Now for my story.” “I must remind you, Mrs. Fair,” interrupted Marshall sternly, “that if your crime, as you choose to call it, is to the prejudice to Mr. Fair, I must decline to hear your statement, as, in the event of any issue arising, I must, of course, act on his and not on your behalf.” “But it is not a question as between Mr. Fair and me,” answered Mrs. Fair. “The simple and horrible fact is I killed a man yesterday—a Cuban named Pablo Mendes—a wretch who had blasted my life. He dared to pursue me even into my protector’s house. He heaped the foulest insults upon Mr. Fair and the children and me—so, in a mad access of frenzy and horror, I shot and instantly killed him. I desire to give myself up to the police. What shall I do, sir?” Marshall was walking up and down now with his hands clasped behind his back, and for several moments he did not answer. Then he said as he stood confronting her: “If there were no witnesses, and the man can be proved to have been your traducer and persecutor, it would not be difficult to set up a powerful defense. He invaded your house, demanded money, threatened you—or, wait, wait—I have it! On failing to extort the money, he attacked you, and you, having anticipated just such an assault, had taken the precaution to be armed—and shot him down for the blackguard he was. Why, my dear Mrs. Fair, a jury would acquit you without leaving the courtroom.”