give myself up and be tried, and be found guilty and executed for
your sake, sooner than cause you any further distress, or expose you
to the shock of any more disclosures. But I can't do that, on
Elsie's account. Even if I decided to put Elsie to that shame and
disgrace--which would hardly be just, which would hardly be manly of
me--Elsie knows all, and Elsie'd never consent to it. She'd never
let her brother be hanged for a crime of which (as she knows) he's
entirely innocent. And she'd tell out all in full court--every fact,
every detail--which would be worse for you ten thousand times in the
end than learning it here quietly."

"Tell me all," I said, growing stony, yet trembling from head to
foot. "Oh, Jack,"--I seized his hand,--"I don't know what you mean!
But I somehow trust you. I want to know all. I can bear
anything--anything--better than this suspense. You MUST tell me! You
MUST explain to me!"

"I will," he said slowly, looking hard into my eyes, and feeling my
pulse half unconsciously with his finger as he spoke. "Una darling,
you must make up your mind now for a terrible shock. I won't tell
you in words, for you'd never believe it. I'll SHOW you who it was
that fired the shot at Mr. Callingham."

He moved over to the other side of the room, and unlocking drawer
after drawer, took a bundle of photographs from the inmost secret
cabinet of a desk in the corner.

"There, Una," he said, selecting one of them and holding it up
before my eyes. "Prepare yourself, darling. That's the person who
pulled the trigger that night in the library!"