Macfarlane glanced at him with a contemptuous pity and stood a little aside from the door. "Better go into the front room," he said. "You can't do any good here."

The little man shook his head, and going to the window turned his back on them and endeavored to master his shaking.

Shortly afterward Colina came down-stairs. At her entrance all looked the question none dared put into words.

Colina veiled her eyes. "My father only fainted," she said levelly.

"Dr. Giddings says he is little worse than before."

A long breath escaped from her hearers.

Strange cunningly contrived to get his story out first. As he spoke all eyes were bent on the ground. They could not face the horror of the other eyes.

Pringle was obliged to sit on the sofa to control the trembling of his limbs. The others stood--Macfarlane, Colina, and Strange near the door--Ambrose facing them from in front of the desk.

"You will remember," Strange began collectedly, "it was I who advised that this man should be admitted to the house. I thought we could watch him better from the inside. I have never ceased to watch him from that moment.

"When you all turned in and I was left at the side door I kept my eye on this room. The last time I looked in I saw that he had disappeared.

He had slipped so softly down the hall I had not heard anything.

"I instantly thought of danger to those up-stairs, and crept up as quickly as I could without making any sound. I found the door of Mr.

Gaviller's room closed. I knew Miss Colina had left it open. I opened it softly, and saw Doane on the bed with his hands at Mr. Gaviller's throat."

A shuddering breath escaped from Colina. The little parson moaned.

"He sprang at me," Strange went on. "We rolled on the ground. I called for help, and you all came. That is all."

Ambrose was staggered by the breed's satanic cleverness. After this his own story must sound like a pitiful imitation. He could never tell it now with the same a.s.surance.

"Surely, surely they must know that a true man couldn't take it so coolly," he thought. But they were convinced; he could see it in their faces.

He felt as powerless as a dreamer in the grip of a nightmare.

CHAPTER XXVI.

CONVICTED.

When Strange finished there was a significant silence. They were waiting for Ambrose to speak. Stiffening himself he told his story as manfully as he could. Conscious of its weakness he wore a hang-dog air which contrasted unfavorably with Strange's seeming candor.

No comment was made upon it. Ambrose could feel their unexpressed sneers like goads in the raw flesh. Only Colina gave no sign.

Macfarlane turned to her for instructions.

She contrived to maintain her proud and stony air up to the moment she was obliged to speak. But her self-command went out with her shuddering voice. "I--I don't know what to say," she whispered tremblingly.

"Surely there can be no question here!" cried Strange with a voice full of reproachful indignation. "I have served Mr. Gaviller faithfully for nearly thirty years. This man's whole aim has been to ruin him!"

"This is the tone I should be taking instead of letting him run me out," Ambrose thought dispa.s.sionately, as if it were somebody else.

But he remained dumb.

"What earthly reason could I have for trying to injure my benefactor?"

cried Strange. His voice broke artistically on the final word. "You all know what I think of him. Your suspicions hurt me!"

Macfarlane crossed over and clapped him on the shoulder. Colina kept her eyes down. She was very pale; her lips were compressed and her hands clenched at her sides.

Ambrose bestirred himself to his own defense. "Let me ask a question,"

he said quietly to Strange. "You say when you opened the door you saw me with my hands on Mr. Gaviller. How could you see me?"

"With my electric flash-light," Strange instantly answered.

"That's a lie," said Ambrose. "The flash-light was mine. I can prove it by a dozen witnesses."

"Produce it," said Strange sneering.

"You knocked it out of my hand," said Ambrose. "It will be found somewhere on the floor up-stairs."

Strange drew his hand out of his pocket. "On the contrary, it is here," he said. "And it has never been out of my possession. As to your identifying it, there are dozens like it in the country. It is the style all the stores carry."

Ambrose shrugged. "I've nothing more to say," he said. "The man is a liar. The truth is bound to come out in the end."

The white men paid little attention to this, but it stung Strange to reply. "If Mr. Gaviller were able to speak he'd soon decide between us!"

At that moment, as if Strange's speech had evoked, him, they heard Giddings in the hall.

"Has he spoken?" they asked breathlessly.

Colina kept her eyes hidden.

Giddings nodded. "He sent me down-stairs to order Macfarlane to arrest Doane."

Colina fell back against the door-frame with a hand to her breast.

"Did he--did he _see_ him?" she whispered.

"No," said Giddings reluctantly. "He did not see his a.s.sailant. But said to accuse Strange of the deed was the act of a desperate criminal."

"You're under arrest!" Macfarlane said bruskly to Ambrose. Turning to Colina, he added deprecatingly: "You had better leave the room, Miss Gaviller."

She shook her head. Clearly speech was beyond her. Not once during the scene had Ambrose been able to see her eyes, Macfarlane waited a moment for her to go, then shrugged deprecatingly.

"Will you submit to handcuffs or must I force you?" he demanded of Ambrose.

Ambrose did not hear him. His eyes were fastened on Colina. So long as he was tortured by a doubt of her he was oblivious to everything else.

The heart knows no logic. It deals directly with the heart. Love looks for loyalty as its due. Ambrose was amazed and incredulous and sickened by his love's apparent faint-heartedness.

"Colina!" he cried indignantly, "have you nothing to say? Do you believe this lie?"

Her agonized eyes flew to his--full of pa.s.sionate grat.i.tude to hear him defend himself. His scorn both abased and overjoyed her. Her heart knew.