use--I see you are as imperious as ever--because I can only save
myself by giving the real murderer up to justice."

She was on her feet in an instant, all her enforced calmness gone,
unutterable misery in her face and voice.

"You know!" she cried. "You! Oh! my God, what shall I do!"

"Have no fear, Miss Wardour; have I not said I will keep my own
counsel?"

"But, you! _You!_ Oh, there is no reason why _you_ should not speak; you
are not bound! You are not--oh, what am I saying!" She sank back into
her seat, panting and wild-eyed.

"Miss Wardour, calm yourself," he said, gently. "I _am_ bound. It is my
pleasure to keep this secret. Listen. A short time ago I received a
visit from my lawyers. They told me--among other things, they thought it
best that I should know--that you knew who did the deed, and that you
would have us both saved, innocent and guilty alike. Before that, I had
determined to keep silence; now I am doubly resolved. For your sake, I
will not accuse Frank Lamotte."

"Frank--you will not accuse _Frank Lamotte_? And for my sake!" she
almost shrieked. "For God's sake, explain. What is Frank Lamotte to me?
Of what can you accuse him?"

It was Clifford Heath's turn to lose his composure. How could he
interpret her words? Was she trying to deceive him?

"Miss Wardour," he said, almost sternly, "do you wish me to understand
that Francis Lamotte is nothing to you?"

"_Nothing to me!_ the vilest, the basest, the most treacherous, the most
abject of all human creatures, _that_ is what Frank Lamotte is to me!"

Uncontrollable scorn rang in her voice; rising anger, too. How dared
_he_ couple her name with that of Frank Lamotte?

From the chaos of meanings and mysteries revolving through his mind,
Clifford Heath seized upon and clung to one idea, held it in silence for
a moment, then let it burst forth in words.

"Then--then you are not Frank Lamotte's promised wife?"

"_I!_ great heavens! _no._"

"And never have been?"

"And never have been."

Clifford Heath drew a long, deep breath. For a moment a look of gladness
beamed in his eye, then it died out suddenly, as he said, almost
gloomily:

"And yet, you have said that he must be saved at all hazards. Knowing
his guilt, I still am here in his place."

"In his place, oh," she came toward him with a swift, eager movement, "I
begin to see! Doctor Heath, you think Frank Lamotte the guilty one?"

"I know it," grimly.

A look of relief came over