"Why do you come here to probe into my secrets?" Fedora cried, fiercely. "Listen, then: I wanted him dead before he secured the divorce, so that I might inherit his wealth. I, his loving widow! Ha! ha! Was it not a clever scheme?" She laughed wildly; and, coming closer to Kathleen, glared threateningly into her eyes as she hissed: "You foiled me--you--curse you, I repeat! Let me but escape, and I will murder you!" A weaker heart than Kathleen's might have quailed before such threats; but she stood there trembling but courageous, an earnest purpose in her splendid eyes. "These are idle words, and I did not come here to bandy words with you. I came to make a solemn appeal to you," she said meekly, almost beseechingly. "Appeal to me?" asked the prisoner, with a scornful laugh; and then she waited out of curiosity for the other's answer. "Do you remember that night in Philadelphia?" Kathleen asked. "Yes, I remember." "You were wearing my diamonds--the ones that were stolen from me that night when I was left for dead on the ground at Lincoln Station. You told me--told me," her voice faltering, "that Ralph Chainey gave you the jewels. Oh, God! I think if I had quite believed that horrible story, I should have died! But there was always the merciful doubt--the hope that it might not be true--that saved me from madness!" She paused, but the prisoner did not speak--only smiled derisively. "So I have come to you for the truth," went on the girl. "Oh, for God's sake, speak and tell me you lied! It was not Ralph; it could not be. Perhaps you are shielding the guilty man behind his identity. Are you? Tell me the truth! I will not ask you to betray the criminal. I do not wish to punish him. Only tell me it was not Ralph!" and she waited in wild suspense for the answer. Fedora's evilly handsome face had on it a smile of triumph. She was gloating over the young girl's misery. "So you love _my husband_?" she exclaimed, tauntingly, and the deep color rose up over Kathleen's face at the cruel sneer. She trembled with emotion, although she tried to appear indifferent as she answered: "I did not come here to discuss _that_ with you, madame." Fedora was regarding her with a fixed gaze. A cunning thought had entered her mind. "How much is my secret worth to you?" she asked. "All the wealth in the world, if I had it, but I am penniless. I can not buy your secret," Kathleen answered, sadly. Fedora came nearer and whispered in her ear: "If I tell you the truth, will you help me to escape?" "I could not do it if I wished to do so ever so much. It would take money, and I have already told you I have none." The voice was cold and dull. Kathleen began to realize how hopeless was her mission. The cruel, calculating woman before her had no pity for her misery.