ndless words:

"For murder? Him?"

The detective's bow and a very long-drawn sigh from his son-in-law
answered him simultaneously. With a curious lift of his upper lip, which
showed his teeth somewhat unpleasantly for a moment, he drew back a
step, and sank into his previous immobility.

"I am indebted to you," declared the young man. "Now I know where I
stand. I am quite ready to go with you and stand trial, if such be
deemed necessary by the officials in New York. You," he cried, turning
with almost an air of command to the old gentleman beside him, "will
watch over Eva. Not like a father, sir, but like a mother. You will be
at her side when she wakes, and, if possible, leave her only when she
sleeps. Do not let her suffer--not too much. No newspapers, no gossiping
women. Watch! watch! as I would watch, and when I come back--for I will
come back, will I not?" he appealed to Mr. Gryce, "my prayers will bless
you and----" A sob stuck in his throat, and he turned for a minute
aside; then he took the detective's arm quite calmly and remarked:

"I do not want to say good-by to my wife. I cannot bear it. I had rather
go straight from here without another glance at her unconscious face.
When I have told my story, for I shall tell it to the first man who asks
me, I may find courage to write her. Meanwhile, get me away as quickly
as you can. Time enough for the world to know my shame to-morrow."

Mr. Gryce tapped on the window overlooking the piazza. A young man
stepped in.

"Here is a gentleman," he cried, "who finds himself forced to return in
great haste to New York. See that he gets to the train in time, without
fuss and without raising the least comment. I will follow with his
portmanteau. Mr. Poindexter, you are now at liberty to attend your
suffering daughter." And with a turn of the key, he unlocked the door,
and one of the most painful scenes of his long life was over.

CHAPTER XII.

THOMAS EXPLAINS.

Mr. Gryce was not above employing a little finesse. He had expressed his
intention of following Mr. Adams, and he did follow him, but so
immediately that he not only took the same train, but sat in the same
car. He wished to note at his leisure the bearing of this young man, who
interested him in quite a different way from what he had anticipated, a
way that vaguely touched his own conscience and made him feel his years
as he had no right to feel them when he had just brought to an end an
intricate and