conscious of what I said or did. At that supreme moment, we enraged, we
maddened each other. His hand closed convulsively on my hand. His eyes
looked wildly into mine.

"Do you read the newspapers?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Have you seen----?"

"I have _not_ seen the name of 'Dubourg'----"

'My name is not 'Dubourg.' "

"What is it?"

He suddenly stooped over me; and whispered his name in my ear.

In my turn I started, thunderstruck, to my feet.

"Good God!" I cried. "You are the man who was tried for murder last
month, and who was all but hanged, on the false testimony of a clock!"

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH

The Perjury of the Clock

WE looked at one another in silence. Both alike, we were obliged to wait
a little and recover ourselves.