Roger was there, pacing restlessly to and fro like a caged lion, but when she entered he stopped at once, and looked at her fixedly as she came towards him in her sweeping black dress. Worn and haggard both of them, anxious and apprehensive both of them, they looked like two criminals meeting for the first time after the commission of a secret crime. On seeing Roger's altered face, Judith also paused and gazed at him with a terrified look in her dilated eyes. They stood silently looking at one another for a single moment, but in that moment the agony of a lifetime was concentrated. At last Roger spoke in a low, smothered tone, as if the words issued from his white lips against his will. "No! no! I cannot believe it." This speech broke the strange spell that held Judith motionless, and stealing forward she touched him lightly on the shoulder as he sank into a chair, covering his wild face with his hands. "Roger!" No answer. Only the short quick breath of the man and the soft rustle of the woman's dress. "Roger, what is the matter?" He looked up suddenly, hollow-eyed and shrinking, with a wild, questioning look on his worn face. "I--I--have been told something." "By--by that Frenchman?" "Yes!" "My God!" she muttered to herself, falling nerveless into a chair, "what has he told him?" "He has told me all!" "All?" "He has told not only me but Fanks!" "The detective?" "Yes." She hid her face in her hands with a startled cry, at which he sprang quickly from his chair and flung himself on his knees beside her. "Oh, my love--my love!" he cried, entreatingly, "you are innocent; you are innocent. I know you are!" "I innocent?" She was looking down at him with an expression of amazement on her face, the beauty of which was marred by tears, by weariness, and by anxious thought. "Yes! I'll swear you did not kill him!" "Kill whom?" "Sebastian Melstane!" "I kill Sebastian Melstane?" she cried, rising quickly, and drawing herself up to her full height. "Who dares to accuse me of such a thing?" "Judas!" "That wretch?" "Yes; but you are innocent; I know you are innocent." "Why?" "Because I love you!" Judith looked down at the man kneeling at her feet with a look of infinite gratitude in her eyes, and passed her hand caressingly over his dishevelled hair. "Poor boy, how true you are! You are willing to believe in my innocence without my denial." "I am!" She sat down, again, caught his head between her two hands and kissed him softly on the forehead. As she did so, he felt a hot tear fall on his cheek, and when he looked at her she was crying. "Judith!" he cried, with sudden terror, "you are weeping." "Yes. May God always send mankind such true hearts as yours!" "I would be unworthy of your love if I did not believe you before all the lying scoundrels in the world." "Alas, Don Quixote!" "But you can explain everything, Judith. I feel certain you can."