im confusedly. "An overdose?"

"Yes--purposely, I mean. And I came into the room at the wrong time. I
can prove that Mrs. Amherst died of morphia-poisoning."

"John!" Justine gasped out, pressing between them.

Amherst gently put aside the hand with which she had caught his arm.
"Wait a moment: this can't rest here. You can't want it to," he said to
her in an undertone.

"Why do you care...for what he says...when I don't?" she breathed back
with trembling lips.

"You can see I am not wanted here," Wyant threw in with a sneer.

Amherst remained silent for a brief space; then he turned his eyes once
more to his wife.

Justine lifted her face: it looked small and spent, like an extinguished
taper.

"It's true," she said.

"True?"

"I _did_ give...an overdose...intentionally, when I knew there was no
hope, and when the surgeons said she might go on suffering. She was very
strong...and I couldn't bear it...you couldn't have borne it...."

There was another silence; then she went on in a stronger voice, looking
straight at her husband: "And now will you send this man away?"

Amherst glanced at Wyant without moving. "Go," he said curtly.

Wyant, instead, moved a step nearer. "Just a minute, please. It's only
fair to hear my side. Your wife says there was no hope; yet the day
before she...gave the dose, Dr. Garford told her in my presence that
Mrs. Amherst might live."

Again Amherst's eyes addressed themselves slowly to Justine; and she
forced her lips to articulate an answer.

"Dr. Garford said...one could never tell...but I know he didn't believe
in the chance of recovery...no one did."

"Dr. Garford is dead," said Wyant grimly.

Amherst strode up to him again. "You scoundrel--leave the house!" he
commanded.

But still Wyant sneeringly stood his ground. "Not till I've finished. I
can't afford to let myself be kicked out like a dog because I happen to
be in the way. Every doctor knows that in cases of spinal lesion
recovery is becoming more and more frequent--if the patient survives the
third week there's every reason to hope. Those are the facts as they
would appear to any surgeon. If they're not true, why is Mrs. Amherst
afraid of having them stated? Why has she been paying me for nearly a
year to keep them quiet?"

"Oh----" Justine moaned.

"I never thought of talking till luck went against me. Then I asked her
for help--and reminded her of certain things. After that she kept me
supplied pretty r