for half an hour, and--and--and--well, they say--the people say he's done
something that would hang him. There! Is that enough for you?"

He felt that he was a brute to tell her, but he could see no other way
out of the difficulty in which her own persistency had placed him. She
stared at him for a few seconds with blanched cheeks, clasping her
hands. Then she said in a whisper:

"You don't mean--murder?"

Her brother's silence gave her the answer.

There was a long pause. Then she spoke in a changed voice, under her
breath:

"Poor Dudley!"

Max was astonished to see her take the announcement so quietly.

"Well, now you see that it is impossible to do anything for him, don't
you?"

"Indeed, I do not!" retorted Doreen, with spirit. "We don't know the
story yet. We don't know whether there is any truth in it at all; or, if
there is, what the difficulties were that he was in. Look, Max. You must
remember how worried he has been lately. I have heard him make excuses
for people who did rash things, and I have always agreed with him. You
see, I knew how good-hearted he was, and I know that he would never have
done anything mean or underhand or unworthy."