worried, too, about North!" Langham said presently.

"About North--what about North?"

"They are going to bring him back; didn't you know he had gone West? He
went last night."

"But _who_ is going to bring him back?"

"They want him as a witness in the McBride case. They--Moxlow, that
is--seems to think he knows something that may be of importance. He's a
crazy fool, with his notions!"

"But North--" Evelyn began.

"It may make a lot of trouble for him. They are going to bring him back
as a witness, and unless he gives a pretty good account of himself,
Moxlow's scheme is to try and hold him--"

"What do you mean by a good account of himself?"

"He'll, have to be able to tell just where he was between half past five
and six o'clock last night; that's when the murder was committed,
according to Taylor."

"Do you mean he's suspected, Marsh? But he couldn't have done it!" she
cried.

"How do you know?" he asked quickly.

"Why, I was there--"

"Where?"

"With him--"

"Here--was he here?" A great load seemed lifted from him.

She was silent.

"He was here between five and six?" he repeated. He glanced at her
sharply. "Why don't you answer me?"

"No, he was not here," she said slowly.

"Where was he, then?" he demanded. "What's the secret, anyhow?"

"Marsh, I'm going to tell you something," she said slowly. "Nothing
shall stand between our perfect understanding, our perfect trust for the
future. You know I have been none too happy for the last year--I don't
reproach you--but we had gotten very far apart somehow. I've never been
really bad--I've been your true and faithful wife, dear, always--always,
but--you had made me very unhappy--" She felt him shiver. "And I am not
a very wise or settled person--and we haven't any children to keep me
steady--"

"Thank God!" the man muttered hoarsely under his breath.

"What do you say?" she asked.

"Nothing--go on; what is it you want to tell me?"

"Something--and then perhaps you will trust me more fully with the
things that are oppressing you. I believe you love me, I believe it
absolutely--" she paused.

The light died out of his eyes.

"Marsh," she began again. "Could you forgive me if you knew that I'd
thought I cared for some one else? Could you, if I told you that for a
moment I had the thought--the silly thought, that I cared for another
man?" She was conscious that his hand had grown cold beneath her cheek.
"It was just a foolish fancy, quite a