said, to such a conclusion as that the man who
wore the coat which you bought at Amherst is
the criminal whom the police want to arrest—I
think you would find it very difficult to prove
that you are not the man!''

"Good God! You are not serious," cried
George.

"I am perfectly serious," she answered.
"How can you prove it? How do I, at this
moment, know in a manner which I could
demonstrate to legal satisfaction that you are not
the man who did the deed?"

George looked at her in astonishment.

"Of course I do know it— that is, I believe
it, which is quite a different thing; but
supposing I did not believe it, supposing my mind
were not made up about it, how would you
proppose to prove it to me? Tell me that, and
then the strength of my argument, the value
of my advice, will become evident to you, I
think."

Still George looked at her, and his colour
rose. He was unaccountably embarrassed by
the question. The whole thing had appeared
to him as simple for him as it was terrible for
Deane, when Harriet began to speak. It bore
a very different aspect now.

"I — I should prove that I parted with Deane,
that night, at the door of the billiard-rooms
where we had been playing."

"Outside the door or inside, before
witnesses or alone?" interrupted Harriet.

"Why, it certainly was outside the door,
and we were alone."

"Exactly. Then your having parted with him
that night is just what you cannot prove; and
as you cannot prove that, you can prove nothing.
Let me repeat to you your own account of that
night's proceedings, and you will see that you
can prove nothing to outweigh the presumptive
evidence against you. You told me this
wretched man had money about him which he
boasted of; therefore, you knew he was a rich
prey. You had no money— only a few shillings
at least; you went to your lodgings that night,
and left them without notice on the following
morning, having paid your landlady with a
ten-pound note that had been in this man's
possession. How can you account for that? You
went to Amherst, where you remained, alone,
under a feigned name, for four days; you
returned to London, where, it can be proved, the
occurrence was, at the time, a topic of general
discussion, late at night. You went abroad the
following morning, and at Amsterdam you offered
certain valuable diamonds for sale. The
diamonds are your mother's, you say, and formed
part of a bracelet given to you by her."

"No, no," said George; "I never would
explain that under any circumstances."

Harriet smiled, but the steadfast earnestness
of her manner was not lessened by the smile,
which was just a little contemptuous.

"That is precisely what you would be forced
to explain," she continued. "Certain diamond
ornaments were among the articles in the
possession of the murdered man, says the
newspaper report," she pointed to the passage with
a steady hand. He read it, and listened in
silence, his face grave and anxious.

"You must account for the diamonds which
you sold at Amsterdam; how are you to prove,
otherwise, that they are not those the wretched
man wore when he was seen in your company?"

"I remember his studs and his ring," said
George, in a low, agitated voice. "I wonder
they have not been traced."

Harriet did not reply for a moment; and
the click in her throat was painfully hard and
audible, as she said at length:

"They would have been broken up, of course;
and remember, George, they were unset
diamonds you sold at Amsterdam."

George Dallas leaned his elbows on the
table, and his head on his hands. He looked at
Harriet, and her face changed when his gaze
was removed— changed to a look of sharp,
terrible anxiety, to all the intentness of one pleading
in a desperate cause.

"You must tell the story of your visit to
Amherst; you must tell the truth about your
mother and the jewels; moreover, you must
prove it. Can your mother do that for you?"

"No," said George, drearily; "but my old
nurse can."

"How? Did she see you on the Friday, when
you arrived at Amherst? Did she see you at
all until the Monday? Could she swear you
were at Amherst in the interval? And,
supposing she could, what would it avail? Look
here, George, this man's body was found on
Friday evening, the eighteenth of April, and
the presumption is that it had been a night and
a day in the river. Do you see what this
means?" She put her hand on his shoulder,
and grasped it securely. He shrunk from her
light fingers; they nurt his flesh as though they
had been steel bars. She struck the newspaper
lying open on the table with the other hand,
and said, with a desperate effort, "It means
this, George: The man was found on Friday;
but the deed was done on Thursday night— done,
of course, after you left him; but who can
prove that? He was seen alive in your
company late on Thursday night, and he was never
seen alive again. The hours of that night must
be accounted for, George, if you are to prove
yourself guiltless. How can you account for
them after the time the waiter saw you leave the
tavern together?"

George did not answer. She caught her
breath and went on, fixing on him a sideway
look of intense anxiety.

"Can any of the people at the billiard-rooms
prove at what hour you left them? Can any
one at your former lodgings prove at what hour
you reached home that night?"

"I don't think we left any one after us at
the billiard-room but the marker," George
replied. "By the way, how extraordinary that
he did not come forward at the inquest. He
must have noticed Deane's odd appearance, and
his diamond studs and things, I should think."

"One would think so," said Harriet; "but I
dare say the foreign look is commonly enough
seen in such places. Still the coat must have