"His life." That landed. Watching, I saw the struggle that tore him. He jumped up and started toward me; I hadn't much doubt that I was now going to hear a plea for mercy--a confession, of sorts--as he stopped, dropped his head, and stood scowling at the floor. "Talk," I said. "Spill it. Now's your time." He raised his eyes to mine and spoke suddenly. "Boyne--I have nothing to say." "And Worth Gilbert can hang and be damned to him--is that it?" I took another step toward him. "No, Edwards, that 'nothing to say' stuff won't go in a court of law. It won't get you anywhere." "They'll never in the world--try Worth for--that killing." "I'm expecting his arrest any hour." "A trial! Those cursed diaries of Tom's brought into court--My God! I believe if I'd known he'd written things like that, I could have killed him for it!" I stared. He had forgotten me. But at this speech I mentally dropped him for the moment, and fastened my suspicions on the woman who went with him to the study. "All right," I said brutally. "You didn't kill Thomas Gilbert. But you took Mrs. Bowman to the study that night to have it out with him, and get six pages from the 1916 book. She got 'em--and you know what she had to do to get 'em." "Hold on, Boyne!" he said sternly. "Don't you talk like that to me." "Well," I said, "Mrs. Bowman was there--after those diary leaves. I heard Barbara Wallace imitate her voice--and Chung recognized the imitation. You know--that night at the study--the first night." He took a bewildered moment or two for thought, then broke out, "It wasn't Laura's voice Barbara imitated. Did she say so?" "No, but she imitated the voice of a woman who came weeping to get those pages from the diary; and who else would that be? Who else would want them?" "You're off the track, Boyne," he drew a great, shuddering sigh of relief. "Tom was always playing the tyrant to those about him; no doubt some woman did come crying for that stuff--but it wasn't Laura." "By Heaven!" I exclaimed as I looked at him. "You know who it was! You recognized the voice that night--but the woman isn't one you're interested in." "I'm interested in all women, so far as their getting a decent show in the world is concerned," he maintained sturdily. "I'd go as far as any man to defend the good name of a woman--whether I thought much of her or not." "This other woman," I argued, not any too keen on such a job myself, "hasn't she got some man to speak for her?" Edwards looked at me innocently. "She didn't have, then--" he began, and I finished for him, "But she has now. I've got it!" As I jumped up and hurried to the door, his eyes followed me in wonder. There I turned with, "Stay right where you are. I'll be back in a minute," ducked out into the hall and signaled a passing messenger, then stepped quickly back into the writing room and said, "I've sent for Bronson Vandeman." He settled deeper in his chair with,