"I will," she said, rising from her chair and
approaching him. She placed her hands upon
his shoulders, and looked at him with a steady,
searching look. "We will talk this out,
Stewart, and I will not shrink from anything
there is to be said about it; but you must hear
me then, in my turn. We are not like other
people, Stewart, and our life is not like theirs.
Only ruin can come of any discord or disunion
between us."

Then she quietly turned away and sat down
by the window, with her head a little averted
from him, waiting for him to speak. Her voice
had been low and thrilling as she said those few
words, without a tone of anger in it, and yet the
callous man to whom they were addressed heard
in them something which sounded like the
warning or the menace of doom.

"When Dallas knows what we now know,
Harriet," said Routh, "he will come to us and
tell us his discovery, and then the position of
affairs will be that for which we were prepared,
if we had not succeeded in inducing him to be
silent about Deane's identity."

"Exactly so," said Harriet; "with the additional
difficulty of his having concealed his
knowledge."

"Yes," said Routh; "but that is his affair,
not ours. He concealed his knowledge because
he was compromised. There is nothing to
compromise me. I neglected a public duty,
certainly, in favour of a private friendship; but
that is a venial offence."

It was wonderful to see how the callousness
of the man asserted itself. As he arranged the
circumstances, and stated them, he began to
regain his accustomed ease of manner.

"It is unfortunate that he should be
compromised in this double way, and, of course,
there will be a great deal to go through, which
will be hard to bear, and not easy to manage;
but, after all, the thing is only as bad as it was
when Dallas came back. Don't you see that,
Harriet?"

"I see that, Stewart, but I also see that he
will now have a tenfold interest in finding out
the truth. Hitherto he might have been
content with clearing himself of suspicion, but now
he will be the one person most deeply
interested in discovering the truth."

"But how can he discover it?" said Routh;
his face darkened, and he dropped his voice still
lower. "Harriet, have you forgotten that if
there be danger from him, there is also the
means of turning that danger on himself? Have
you forgotten that I can direct suspicion against
him tenfold stronger than any that can arise
against me?"

She shivered, and closed her eyes again.
"No, I have not forgotten," she said; "but
oh, Stewart, it is an awful thing to contemplate
—a horrible expedient."

"Yet you arranged it with a good deal of
composure, and said very little about its being
horrible at the time," said Routh, coarsely. "I
hope you are not going to be afflicted with
misplaced and ill-timed scruples now. It's rather
late in the day, you know, and you'll have to
choose, in that case, between Dallas and me."

She made him no answer.

"The thing is just this," he continued;
"Dallas cannot come to any serious grief, I am
convinced; but, if the occasion arises, he must
be let come to whatever grief there may be—a
trial and an acquittal at the worst. The traitor's
death, and his mother's recovery, will tell in his
favour, though I've no doubt he will supply
all the information Evans would have given, of
his own accord. I think there is no real risk;
but, Harriet, much, very much, depends on you."

"On me, Stewart! How?"

"In this way. When Dallas comes to see
you, you must find out whether any other clue
to the truth exists; if not, there is time before
us. You must keep up the best relations with
him, and find out all he is doing. Is it not very
odd that he has not mentioned his uncle's
solicitude about his son to you?"

"I don't think so, Stewart. I feel instinctively
that Mr. Felton dislikes and distrusts us—
("what well-founded dislike and distrust it was,"
she thought, mournfully, with a faint pity for
the unconscious father)—"and George knows it,
I am sure, and will not talk to me about his
uncle's affairs. He is right there; there is
delicacy of feeling in George Dallas."

"You seem to understand every turn in his
disposition," said Routh, with a sneer.

"There are not many to understand," replied
Harriet, simply. "The good and the evil in him
are easily found, being superficial. However,
we are not talking of his character, but of certain
irreparable harm which we must do him, it
seems, in addition to that which we have done.
Go on with what you were saying."

"I was saying that you must find out what
you can, and win his confidence in every way.
I shall keep as clear of him as possible, under
any circumstances. If the interview of
tomorrow goes off without any discovery, there
will be a chance of its not being made at all."

"Impossible, Stewart—quite impossible," said
Harriet, earnestly. "Do not nourish any
such expectation. How long, do you suppose,
will Mr. Felton remain content with expecting
his son's arrival, and hearing no news of him?
How soon will he set inquiries on foot which
must end in discovery? Remember, hiding is
possible only when there is no one seeking,
urged by a strong motive to find. Listen to me,
now, in your turn, and listen to me as you used
to do, not to cavil at my words, or sneer at
them, but to weigh them well. This is a warning
to us, Stewart. I don't talk superstition,
as you know. I don't believe in any nonsense
of the kind; but this I do believe, because
experience teaches it, that there are combinations
of circumstances in which the wise may read
signs and tokens which do not mislead. Here is
just such a case. The first misfortune was
George's return; it was confirmed by his uncle's
arrival; it is capped by this terrible discovery.
Stewart, let us be warned and wise in time; let
us return to England at once—to-morrow. I