n our tongues. For myself, I was still as one who had sold his
brother for a price, and Claire had forborne from questioning my
grief.

The coroner's jury had brought in a verdict of "Murder by a certain
person unknown," and now the police were occupied in following such
clues as I could give them. All the daily papers assigned robbery as
the motive, and the disappearance of Tom's watch-chain gave
plausibility to the theory. But I knew too well why that chain had
disappeared, and even in my grief found consolation in the thought of
Colliver's impotent rage when he should come to examine his prize.
I had described the face and figure of my enemy and had even
identified him with the long-missing sailor Georgio Rhodojani, so
that they promised to lay hands on him in a very short space.
But the public knew nothing of this. The only effect of the
newspapers' version of the murder was to send the town crowding in
greater numbers than ever to see the dead man's play.

Since the first night of "Francesca," Claire and I had only met by
Tom's bedside and at his funeral. But as I entered the gloomy
cemetery that afternoon I spied a figure draped in black beside the
yet unsettled mound, and as I drew near knew it to be Claire.

So we stood there facing one another for a full minute, at a loss for
words. A wreath of _immortelles_ lay upon the grave. In my heart I
thanked her for the gift, but could not speak. It seemed as though
the hillock that parted us were some impassable barrier to words.
Had I but guessed the truth I should have known that, unseen and
unsuspected, across that foot or two of turf was stretched a gulf we
were never more to cross: between our lives lay the body of my
friend; and not his only, but many a pallid corpse that with its mute
lips cursed our loves.

Presently Claire raised her head and spoke.

"Jasper, you have much to forgive me, and I hardly dare ask your
forgiveness. It is too late to ask forgiveness of a dead man, but
could he hear now I would entreat him to pardon the folly that
wrought this cruel mistake."

"Claire, you could not know. How was it possible to guess?"

"That is true, but it is no less cruel. And I deceived you. Can you
ever forgive?"

"Forgive! forgive what? That I found my love peerless among women?
Oh, Claire, Claire, 'forgive'?"

"Yes; what matters it that for the moment I have what is called fame?
I deceived you--yet, believe me, it was only because I th