how my news was received.

"From the moment when I heard Miss Wardour's description of Evan
Lamotte, I knew he was our man. But I was determined to have no more
mistakes. So I kept my opinion to myself. You can imagine how anxiously
I hung upon the words of Doctor Benoit, knowing that upon this boy's
chances for life hung Sir Clifford's life, liberty, and honor.

"When I saw that poor, pale, wreck of humanity, my heart almost failed
me. How could I drag his secret from him? But no time was to be lost,
and, as best I could, I told him everything. First, that his sister
believed herself the guilty one; guilty, at least, in that she had
instigated the deed, and next, that Sir Clifford was now the victim of
this crime. His mind at once seemed to grasp the issue. He had listened
to me intently, breathlessly almost; he now lifted himself suddenly from
the bed, and said quickly:

"'Why, then, it seems I have not saved Sybil yet. Call my mother! let me
see her alone.'

"I obeyed him without a question; they were alone together for a long
half hour, then Mrs. Lamotte came to me with the same look upon her face
that you saw in court.

"'Evan tells me that you know everything,' she said, her voice trembling
in spite of herself. 'He tells me that you are a detective. Then you
know that I have _one_ son of whom I may be proud. Evan Lamotte has
saved his sister's honor. Saved it doubly. My weak, my ill-used Evan,
has proven the only man a man's pride, who bears the name of Lamotte,
because he could not see his sister and his mother contaminated by the
presence of the monster his father and brother had been so base as to
force upon us; he has taken justice into his own hands. He has freed his
sister; he has saved her from crime, and now he stands ready to put
himself in the place of a wronged and innocent man. I shall go with him
into court; I shall not leave him again.'

"She broke off with a dry sob and turned away to prepare for the drive.

"How I pitied that proud woman. How tender she was of her lost boy, and
how he clung to her.

"Mr. O'Meara," turning suddenly toward the lawyer, "we must get that
poor fellow out of that cell. Doctor Benoit says that he can live but a
short time at best. He must not die there, and justice can not deal with
a dying man."

"I think it can be managed," replied the lawyer. "All W---- will favor
the scheme. Not a man or woman will raise their voice against that dying
boy. He will have ple