that had begun with such gaiety and blitheness; that had been
interrupted, after he had left her, by the shouting and rough voices
from the garden! She seemed to hear them anew, and afterward, the
explanation of that odd little person, the police agent, his apologies
for breaking in upon the cotillion. But he had said--?

The blue eyes bent like stars now on this man in her room, standing
before her with bold, mocking face, as if his dark eyes read, understood
every thought that passed through her brain.

"You!--then it was you--John Steele--that they--"

"The convict they tried to arrest? Yes."

"You? I don't--" Her voice was almost childlike.

"I will help you to--understand!" An ashen shade came over his face, but
it passed quickly; his voice sounded brusk. "For months, since a fatal
evening all light, brilliancy, beauty!--the convict has been trying to
hold back the inevitable; but the net whose first meshes were then
woven, has since been drawing closer--closer. In the world two forces
are ever at work, the pursuers and the pursued. In this instance the
former," harshly, "were unusually clever. He struggled hard to keep up
the deception until he could complete a defense worthy of the name. But
to no avail! He felt the end near; did not expect it so soon, however,
this night!--this very night--!"

The man paused; there was a strange gleam in the dark eyes that lingered
on her; its light was succeeded by another, a fiercer expression. For
the first time she moved, shrank back slightly. "I'm afraid I used a few