better than your face, Ainley. Just now your face
told the truth. You have seen that paper before. You saw it at Oxford
when you prepared yourself for the forgery that sent Stane to prison.
You----"

"I'll not stand it!" cried Ainley jumping to his feet. "You are
charging me with a crime of which a judge and jury found Stane guilty.
It is insufferable. You can't expect any man to sit still."

"Where did you find that paper, Stane?" interrupted the policeman
brusquely.

"In a copy of Jowett's Plato which Ainley had borrowed from me, and
which he returned to my scout after I was arrested."

"It's a barefaced lie! A plot!" cried Ainley. "I'm surprised at you,
Anderton--a representative of the law too--lending yourself to such an
absurd charge. You ought to know better."

"I know more than you think, Ainley. You remember Jarlock who was in
our set--?"

"Jarlock!" The name broke from Ainley in a tone of consternation.

"Yes, Jarlock! A good fellow, Jarlock. A friend who could forgive a
friend his faults, who indeed could on occasion overlook a crime when
he thought it was the crime of a hard-pressed man."

"What in thunder are you gassing about?" cried Ainley blusteringly.

"About Jarlock and a certain promissory note which he paid, a note
which bore your name and his. Your signature was quite genuine.
Jarlock's--well, Jarlock denied it, and you owned that you----"

"He told?" said Ainley. "The cur told?"

"Yes, he told me in confidence, after he had heard of Stane's denial of
the charge for which he was imprisoned. You see he believed in Stane,
as I did myself----"

"And you would make me the scapegoat for Stane's crime." Ainley laughed
harshly. "I will see you hung first," he cried. "I----"

He broke off abruptly as a sound of yelping dogs sounded from the wood,
and stared into the darkness. Anderton rose from his seat.

"I expect that will be Jean Benard," he said quietly.

"Jean Benard? Who is Jean Benard?" cried Ainley.

"He is the man who Stane and I left to bring Chigmok along."

"Chigmok!"

"Yes, you see, Ainley, Chigmok was not dead as you meant him to be. He
was only winged, and he was able to tell his story which was a much
more interesting story than yours, and as I beg leave to think, a much
more truthful one."

Ainley did not reply. He stood staring into the darkness with wild
eyes. The glow of the fire revealed a terrible look on his face--the
look of a man who in a single moment has se