would give to the
transaction a very dreadful and tragic significance which at present I
am not disposed to ascribe to it."

Taken aback by his persistence, but determined not to acknowledge defeat
until forced to it, I stolidly replied: "You have made an assertion, and
it is for you to adduce proof. It will be time enough for me to talk
when your own theory is proved untenable."

He was not angry: fellow-feeling for my disappointment made him
unusually gentle. His voice was therefore very kind when he said:

"Madam, if you know it to have been a man, say so. I do not wish to
waste my time."

"I do not know it."

"Very well, then, I will tell you why I think my supposition true. Mr.
Knollys, as you probably have already discovered, is a man with a secret
passion for vivisection."

"Yes, I have discovered that."

"It is known to his family, and it is known to a very few others, but it
is not known to the world at large, not even to his fellow-villagers.'

"I can believe it," said I.

"His sisters, who are gentle girls, regard the matter as the
gentle-hearted usually do. They have tried in every way to influence him
to abandon it, but unsuccessfully so far, for he is not only entirely
unamenable to persuasion, but has a nature of such brutality he could
not live without some such excitement to help away his life in this
dreary house. All they can do, then, is to conceal these cruelties from
the eyes of the people who already execrate him for his many roughnesses
and the undoubted shadow under which he lives. Time was when I thought
this shadow had a substance worth our investigation, but a further
knowledge of his real fault and a completer knowledge of his sisters'
virtues turned my inquiries in a new direction, where I have found, as I
have told you, actual reason for arresting Mother Jane. Have you
anything to say against these conclusions? Cannot you see that all your
suspicions can be explained by the brother's cruel impulses and the
sisters' horror of having those impulses known?"

I thought a moment; then I cried out boldly: "No, I cannot, Mr. Gryce.
The anxiety, the fear, which I have seen depicted on these sisters'
faces for days might be explained perhaps by this theory; but the knot
of crape on the window-shutter, the open Bible in the room of
death--William's room, Mr. Gryce,--proclaim that it was a human being,
and nothing less, for whom Lucetta's sobs went up."

"I do not follow you," he said,