He wasn't particular where he made love--a barmaid or a housekeeper,
it was all the same to him."

"I hope the daughter doesn't know that Erris Boyne was her father," said
Dyck.

"There's plenty can tell her, and she'll hear it sooner or later."

Miles Calhoun looked at his son with dejection.

His eyes wandered over the grimly furnished cell. His nose smelled the
damp of it, and suddenly the whole soul of him burst forth.

"You don't give yourself a chance of escape, Dyck You know what Irish
juries are. Why don't you tell the truth about the quarrel? What's the
good of keeping your mouth shut, when there's many that would profit by
your telling it?"

"Who would profit?" asked Dyck.

"Who would profit!" snarled the old man. "Well, you would profit first,
for it might break the dark chain of circumstantial evidence. Also, your
father would profit. I'd be saved shame, perhaps; I'd get relief from
this disgrace. Oh, man, think of others beside yourself!

"Think of others!" said Dyck, and a queer smile lighted his haggard
face. "I'd save myself if I honourably could."

"The law must prove you guilty," the old man went on. "It's not for you
to prove yourself innocent. They haven't proved you guilty yet."