Francis Marson was considerably perplexed at receiving a note from Fanks, asking for an interview. He guessed at once that Judas had broken faith and unbosomed himself to the detective, but what puzzled him was the reason the Frenchman had for such betrayal. In order to secure the success of his schemes, it was necessary that he should keep silent, yet he had evidently voluntarily revealed his secret knowledge, and thus rendered it useless to himself and his designs. The only way in which Marson could account for the detective's request was that he must have learned the secret of Judas, otherwise there would be no reason why he should seek an interview. Filled with this idea, Marson summoned up all his courage, and prepared to meet the coming storm with as brave a front as possible. He wrote to Fanks, and told him he would be prepared to see him at eight o'clock that night; then he shut himself up in his study for the rest of the day. Plunged in gloomy reflections, he saw no one, not even Judith; but as the hour approached when he expected his visitor to arrive he was unable to bear his trial in solitude any longer, so, sending for Judith, he told her about the interview. To his surprise, she received the communication with great equanimity, and being in ignorance of her forewarning by Roger, he could not but admire the undaunted spirit with which she was prepared to face the terrible trouble coming to them both. On her side, Judith saw plainly that Marson was almost distracted by nervous terror and dread of the impending evil, so she did not think it wise to reveal to him the dangerous position in which she was placed. He would learn it in due time; but, meanwhile, she preserved a gloomy silence, and told her adopted father that she would be by his side during the ordeal, in order to support him to the best of her ability. Poor soul, she knew how futile that support would be, but with stern self-repression kept her forebodings locked in her own heart, and Francis Marson felt to a great extent comforted in knowing that he had at least one friend to stand by him in the hour of peril. It was nearly eight o'clock when Judith entered the study, and found Marson seated at his writing-table, with his gray head buried in his arms. A spasm of agony distorted the calm of her face as she saw the abject terror of the old man; however, repressing all signs of emotion, she moved slowly across the room, and touched him tenderly on the shoulder. He looked up with a startled cry, but was somewhat reassured by the peacefulness of her expression. No marble statue in its eternal calm looked so void of passion and human fear as this tall, pale woman who masked the anguish of her aching heart under an impassive demeanour. Every emotion, every pang, every terror was expressed on the withered countenance of the old man; but she was cold, expressionless, still, as if all human feeling had been frozen in her soul.