ad borne them both had
put the crowning touch to her life-long injustice, and had accused him
of being his brother's murderer,--accused him to a stranger, or to one
who was little nearer than a stranger,--refusing to hear him in his own
defense.

He wished that she might be indeed mad. He hoped that she was beside
herself with grief, even wholly insane, rather than that he should be
forced to believe that she could be so unjust. What construction the
world would put upon the catastrophe he knew from Count Ananoff; but
surely he might expect his mother to be more merciful. A mother should
hope against hope for her child's innocence, even when every one else
has forsaken him; how was it possible that this mother of his could so
harden her heart as to be first to suspect him of such a crime, and to
be of all people the one to refuse to hear his defense! He hoped she was
mad, as he lay there on his bed, in the little room of the hotel, in the
gathering gloom.

At last some one knocked at the door, and Professor Cutter entered,
admitting a stream of light from the corridor outside. Paul sprang to
his feet, pale and haggard.

"You are in the dark," said the professor quietly, as he shut the door
behind him. Then he struck a match, and lit the two candles which stood
on each side of the mirror on the bare dressing-table.

"Can I go now?" asked Paul. The scientist eyed him deliberately.

"Pardon me," he said. "You have not thought of your appearance. You have
traveled for three or four days, and look rather disheveled."

Paul understood. The professor did not want him to be seen as he was. He
was wild and excited, and his clothes were in disorder. Silently he
unlocked his dressing-case and bag, and proceeded to dress himself.
Cutter sat quietly watching him, as though still studying his character;
for he was a student of men, and prided himself on his ability to detect
people's peculiarities from their unconscious movements. Paul dressed
rapidly, with the neatness of a man accustomed to wait upon himself. In
twenty minutes his toilet was completed, during which time neither of
the two spoke a word. At last Paul turned to the professor. "Did you
have difficulty in arranging it?" he asked coldly.

"Yes. But you may see her, if you go at once," answered the other.

"I am ready," said Paul. "Let us go." They left the room, and went down
the corridor together. The quiet and solitude of his room had
strengthened Paul's nerve