did not realise now the intensity of the contempt he had felt
then for the departed General as he looked at his photograph. It was
intolerable, he had thought then, that a man should have those large,
full eyes, that straight, manly look and bearing, who had gone to his
grave having deliberately planned that his dead hand should so deeply
wound a defenceless woman, and that woman his sweet, young wife.
Murray's mind was so full now of relief at the idea that Sir David had
done his best at the last, that in his relief he almost forgot that, in
a woman's mind the main fact might still be that there had been a Madame
Danterre in the case!

But Rose now, as when he had first told her of Madame Danterre's
existence, was seeking with a single eye to find the truth. It had
seemed to her then a moral impossibility to believe that her husband had
meant to leave this horrible insult to their married life. David had
been incapable of anything so monstrous; he had not in his character
even the courage of such a crime.

But now the key to the situation, according to Mr. Murray, was Molly;
and Rose again brought to bear all that she had of perception, of
experience, of instinct, to see her way clearly. She was silent; then at
last she looked up.

"Mr. Murray, Miss Dexter could not commit such a crime. Why, I know her;
I spent some days in a country house with her. I know her quite well,
and I don't like her very much, but she really can't have done anything
of the kind, and therefore, the case won't be proved. I am sure it
won't. And if it fails only harm will be done to David's memory, not
good."

"That is what Sir Edmund said, but believe me, Lady Rose, you have
neither of you anything to go upon. You think it impossible, but you
don't either of you see the immense force of the temptation. Some crimes
may need a villainous nature. This, if you could see it truly, only
needs one that is human under temptation, ignorant of danger, and
ambitious."

"But then, was that why Edmund would have nothing more to do with the
case?" thought Rose.

The look of clear, earnest, searching in Rose's eyes was clouded by a
frown.

The clock struck twelve. Mr. Murray rose.

"I am half an hour late for an appointment. Lady Rose, forgive me; I am
an old man, and maybe I take a harsh view of what passes before me. But
there is nothing, let me tell you, that alarms me more in the present
day than the way in which men and women lose their sense