possibility of getting it repaired at
Farabad, that he would have to return to Kundaghat and might not,
probably would not, come back for us before the following morning."

Haltingly, rather breathlessly, the story came from her lips. It sounded
monstrous as she uttered it. She could not look at Fletcher, but she
knew that he was angry; something in the intense stillness of his
attitude told her this.

"Please go on," he said, as she paused. "You undertook to tell me the
whole truth, remember."

With difficulty she continued.

"He told me that the mare was frightened by a trick, that you chose the
hill-road because it was lonely and difficult. He told me exactly what
you would say when you came back. And--and you said it."

"And that decided you to play a trick upon me and escape?" questioned
Fletcher. "Your friend's suggestion, I presume?"

His words fell with cold precision; they sounded as if they came through
his teeth.

She assented almost inaudibly. He made her feel contemptible.

"And afterwards?" he asked relentlessly.

She made a final effort; there was that in his manner that frightened
her.

"Afterwards, he gave a signal--it was the cry of a jay--for me to
follow. And he led me over the hill to a stream where he waited for me.
We crossed it together, and very soon after he pointed out the
valley-road below us, and left me."

"You rewarded him?" demanded Fletcher swiftly.

"No; I--I was prepared to do so, but he disappeared."

"What was he like?"

She hesitated.

"Mrs. Denvers!" His tone was peremptory.

"I do not feel bound to tell you that," she said, in a low voice.

"I have a right to know it," he responded firmly.

And after a moment she gave in. The man was probably far away by this
time. She knew that the fair was over.

"It was--the old snake-charmer."

"The man we saw at Farabad?"

"Yes."

Fletcher received the information in silence, and several seconds
dragged away while he digested it. She even began to wonder if he meant
to say anything further, almost expecting him to get up and stalk away,
too furious for speech.

But at length, very unexpectedly and very quietly, he spoke.

"Would it be of any use for me to protest my innocence?"

She did not know how to answer him.

He proceeded with scarcely a pause:

"It seems to me that my guilt has been taken for granted in such a
fashion that any attempt on my part to clear myself would be so much
wasted effort. It si