The evening had passed very pleasantly to Elsie; Mellen had humored her caprices at whatever cost to himself, and kept her thoughts as much aloof as possible from the events of the past days.

It was growing late, and he had several times reminded her that it was time she went to rest. Tom Fuller had taken the first hint and retired.

“Let me sit up a little longer,” she pleaded; “I am not in the least sleepy; it is so nice to get out of that dull chamber.”

“But I am afraid you will tire yourself so completely, that to-morrow you cannot come down at all.”

“There is not the slightest danger of that; I am stronger than you think. When this little dizziness in my head leaves me I shall be quite well.”

They talked a few moments longer, then she began turning over the papers on a stand near her sofa. Suddenly she took up a letter, and glancing at the writing, exclaimed:

“This is from Mr. Hudson! You did not tell me that you had heard.”

“It came this afternoon while you were asleep.”

“What does he say? Does he know where she is? Will you send him money for her?”

“There is no necessity.”

“But she must have it; she can’t live.”

“My dear, she has her money. He writes me that sometime since he sold out the stocks by her orders. She was doubtless preparing to leave the country with that man.”

Elsie fell back on the sofa overwhelmed by the new fear which came over her. The money had been paid; but where was Elizabeth? What to do how to act! Before the whirl had left her brain there was a sound at the door of the little passage already described.

“What is that?” exclaimed Mellen. “Some one trying that door.”

“No, no,” she cried. “Come back; it’s nothing; I’m afraid; come back!”

He gave no attention to her cry, but hurried towards the door, while she was attempting to rise from the sofa; he had it open, Elsie heard a muttered curse, an answering imprecation from another voice, looked out, saw the outer door ajar and a man just entering the passage with whom Mellen closed instantly in a fearful struggle.

That one glance had been enough; she knew the man; then it was her insane shriek rang through the house.

Mellen forced Ford into the room, flung him against the wall, locked the door, and exclaimed in a terrible voice:

“At last! at last!”

A bell rang at the front entrance, but no one in that room heeded it.

Mellen sprang towards the man again, but he cried out savagely:

“Keep off, if you value your life, keep off.”

“One of us dies here!” cried Mellen. “William Ford, one of us dies here!”

After that long shriek Elsie had fallen back helpless; she had not fainted, but a sort of cateleptic rigor locked her limbs; there she lay without voice or power of motion, listening to their words, which seemed to come through blocks of ice.

“I did not expect to meet you here,” said Ford, calling up a sudden audacity. “It’s an honor I did not wish.”

“I know who you expected to see; but the woman is gone; you must seek her elsewhere!”

“Then you have driven her to destruction at last. I tell you, sir, we are a pack of cowards hunting down an angel. You and I and that pretty imp of satán. I came to tell you this: bad as I am, her goodness has touched me with human feelings. If she is here and alive, justice shall be done her, and for once the truth shall be spoken under this roof. That woman has bribed me to shield another through her. Soul and body she has been made a sacrifice. There is danger to me here. This bit of goodness may bring ruin upon me, but I cannot leave the country forever, and know that she is being ground to dust under your heel; while that other flimsy coward crowds her from hearth and home. For once, Grantley Mellen, you shall be forced to hear the truth and believe it.”

“The truth from you!” exclaimed Mellen, with unutterable scorn, “that or anything else from so vile a source I reject go, sir, we are not alone!”

Ford, or North, glanced towards the sofa; recognised Elsie lying there, and turned again towards Mellen.

“Twice you have broken up my life,” cried Mellen, “but this time you shall not escape! Here, in the home you have dishonored, you shall meet your fate. Burglar, villain, how did you get here?”

“By the way I have been in the habit of reaching these rooms. I hoped to see your wife here, and tell her that at last I was resolved to knock my chains from her soul. She never would have spoken; but nothing, even though she had gone on her knees again, should have silenced me! If she is not alive to benefit by the exculpation, I am resolved that her memory, at least, shall be saved all reproach.”

“I believe,” said Mellen, with cool scorn, “that it is expected that a man should perjure himself in behalf of a woman whom he has dragged into sin, but here, impudent falsehoods of this kind, count for nothing.”

“But you shall believe me! If that woman is lost, if she has gone mad, for she was mad, when I left her in the graveyard, if she has wandered off and perished, or worse still ”

“Hold, hold!” cried Mellen, shuddering.

“If she is lost or dead,” continued North, without heeding the anguish in this cry, “you have murdered the sweetest and noblest woman that ever drew breath, and only that the worthless thing lying yonder, should continue to be pampered and sit above her.”

Mellen started to his feet.

“Silence!” he thundered. “Do not dare to take the name of that innocent child into your lips.”

A keen, sarcastic laugh, preceded the answer North gave to this.

“So that strikes home, does it? Your wife has probably died by her own hand, but you do not feel it. When that paltry thing is mentioned, you tear at the bit and begin to rave, as if she were the most worthy creature on earth. Ah, ha! There you are wounded, my friend.”

Mellen remembered Elsie’s presence.

“Well,” he cried, pointing to her, “that woman only had my heart; my blood did not run in her veins; if you had struck me there the blow would have been keener.”

The man laughed again; Elsie heard both words and laugh, as she lay in that marble trance. Had she been laid out shrouded for burial she could not have been more helpless.

“So you drove your wife away; out of the house?” cried the man. “I guessed as much.”

“She is gone for ever, but you shall not live to join her.”

“Before now she is dead! Listen to what you have done. I repeat it, your wife was as innocent as an angel. She is dead, and I tell you so, knowing how it will poison your life. If there was guilt or dishonor in loving me it belonged to that pretty heap of deception on the sofa. Hear that, and let your soul writhe under it, for your blood does run in her veins. I came to tell you this. That great hearted creature forced the truth back in my throat, the other night; but you shall hear it now. There lies the mother of the child we buried, the other night!”

“Liar! Traitor!” cried Mellen.

Again came a violent ringing of the door-bell; steps in the hall; this time the two men listened.

“I am pursued,” muttered Ford; “they’ve cornered me; it is your turn now.”

“I will give you up if these are enemies,” cried Mellen; “there is no escape.”

He took one stride towards the door, but Ford called out:

“You are giving up your sister’s husband; remember the whole world shall know it.”

There was bitter truth in the tone, but before Mellen could move or speak, the door opened and two officers entered the room.

“We have him safe,” said one of the intruders as he passed Mellen. “Caught at last, my fine fellow.”

Ford started back thrust one hand under his vest, and drew it out again there was a flash a stunning report he staggered back against the wall, shot through the chest.

For a few instants there was wild confusion; the servants rushed in, the wounded criminal was lifted up, but during all that time Elsie lay on the sofa quite unnoticed, not insensible yet, but utterly helpless, so blasted by the shock that mind and body seemed withering under it.

Ford sat on the floor in gloomy silence. In spite of his resistance an effort was made to staunch the blood which was trickling down his shirt bosom, but he said in a low, quiet voice:

“It is useless. I have cheated you at last the first good act of my life has killed me I am a dying man. It was my last stake, and I have lost it.”

A great change in his face proved the truth of his words; even the officers, inured to scenes of suffering and pain, recoiled before his stony hardihood.

One of them spoke in explanation to Mellen.

“We don’t know what he wanted here; we have been on his track for days; he committed a forgery, months ago, and was trying to get off to Europe just as it was found out.”

“He’s bound on a longer journey, that you cannot stop now,” said Ford. “Mellen, I have something to say to you better send these men away unless you want our little affairs discussed before them.”