to give you up, as I ought, to the arm of Justice!"

He looked at me, all pity, yet inexpressibly reproachful.

"Oh, Una," he cried, clasping his hands--those small white hands of
his--Aunt Emma's hands--the murderer's hands--how had I never
before noticed them?--"and I, who have suffered so much for you! I,
who have wrecked my whole life for you, ungrudgingly, willingly! I,
who have sacrificed even Elsie's happiness and Elsie's future for
you! This is too, too hard! Una, Una, spare me!"

A strange trembling seized me. It was in my heart to rush forward
and clasp him to my breast. Murderer or no murderer, his look, his
voice, cut me sharply to the heart. Words trembled on the tip of my
tongue: "Oh, Jack, I love you!" But with a violent effort, I
repressed them sternly. This horrible revulsion seemed to tear me in
two. I loved him so much. Though till the moment of the discovery, I
never quite realised how deeply I loved him.

"Courtenay Ivor," I said slowly, steeling myself once more for a
hard effort, "I knew who you were at once when I saw you poise
yourself on the parapet. Once before in my life I saw you like that,
and the picture it produced has burned itself into the very fibre
and marrow of my being. As long as I live, I can never get rid of
it. It was when you leapt from the window at The Grange, at
Woodbury, after murdering my father!"

He started once more.

"Una," he said solemnly, in a very clear voice, "there's some