overpowering every other sound; all his muscles had
become relaxed and powerless; he half forgot where and under what
circumstances he was, in a kind of deadly drowsiness. Presently this
passed, and he grew aware that Harriet was preparing tea. When it was
ready, he went to the table, and drank two or three cups, for he was
parched with thirst. He could not look at Harriet, but he understood
the mood she was in, and knew she would not be the first to speak. He
rose, walked about for a few minutes, then stood still before her.

"What proof have you to offer," he said, speaking in a slow but
indistinct tone, "that she is guilty of this, and that it isn't a plot
you have laid against her?"

"You can believe what you like," she replied sullenly. "Of course I
know you'll do your worst against me."

"I wish you to answer my question. If I choose to suspect that you
yourself put this brooch in her pocket--and if other people choose to
suspect the same, knowing your enmity against her, what proof can you
give that she is guilty?"

"It isn't the first thing she's stolen."

"What proof have you that she took those other things?"

"Quite enough, I think. At all events, they've found a pawn-ticket for
the spoon at her lodgings, among a whole lot of other tickets for
things she can't have come by honestly."

Julian became silent, and, as Harriet looked up at him with eyes full
of triumphant spite, he turned pale. He could have crushed the hateful
face beneath his feet.

"You're a good husband, you are," Harriet went on, with a sudden change
to anger; "taking part against your own wife, and trying to make her
out all that's bad. But I think you've had things your own way long
enough. You thought I was a fool, did you, and couldn't see what was
going on? You and your Ida Starr, indeed! Oh, she would be such a good
friend to me, wouldn't she? She would do me so much good; you thought
so highly of her; she was just the very girl to be my companion; how
lucky we found her! I'm much obliged to you, but I think I might have
better friends than thieves and street-walkers."

"What do you mean?" asked Julian, starting at the last word, and
turning a ghastly countenance on her.

"I mean what I say. As if you didn't know, indeed!"

"Explain what you mean," Julian repeated, almost with violence. "Who
has said anything of that kind against her?"

"Who has? Why I can bring half a dozen people who knew her when she was
on the streets