“This is an extraordinary case, Mr. Jones.  Your friends all believe you innocent, but the judge wants facts—­cold, hard facts—­and only these will influence him.  Mr. Le Drieux, commissioned by the Austrian government, states that you are Jack Andrews, and have escaped to America after having stolen the pearls of a noble Viennese lady.  He will offer, as evidence to prove his assertion, the photograph and the pearls.  You must refute this charge with counter-evidence, in order to escape extradition and a journey to the country where the crime was committed.  There you will be granted a regular trial, to be sure, but even if you then secure an acquittal you will have suffered many indignities and your good name will be permanently tarnished.”

“Well, sir?”

“I shall work unceasingly to secure your release at the examination.  But I wish I had some stronger evidence to offer in rebuttal.”

“Go ahead and do your best,” said the boy, nonchalantly.  “I will abide by the result, whatever it may be.”

“May I ask a few questions?” Maud timidly inquired.

He turned to her with an air of relief.

“Most certainly you may, Miss Stanton.”

“And you will answer them?”

“I pledge myself to do so, if I am able.”

“Thank you,” she said.  “I am not going to interfere with Mr. Colby’s plans, but I’d like to help you on my own account, if I may.”

He gave her a quick look, at once grateful, suspicious and amused.  Then he said: 

“Clear out, Colby.  I’m sure you have a hundred things to attend to, and when you’re gone I’ll have a little talk with Miss Stanton.”

The lawyer hesitated.

“If this conversation is likely to affect your case,” he began, “then—­”

“Then Miss Stanton will give you any information she may acquire,” interrupted Jones, and that left Colby no alternative but to go away.

“Now, then, Miss Stanton, out with it!” said the boy.

“There are a lot of things we don’t know, but ought to know, in order to defend you properly,” she observed, looking at him earnestly.

“Question me, then.”

“I want to know the exact date when you landed in this country from Sangoa.”

“Let me see.  It was the twelfth day of October, of last year.”

“Oh! so long ago as that?  It is fifteen months.  Once you told us that you had been here about a year.”

“I didn’t stop to count the months, you see.  The twelfth of October is correct.”

“Where did you land?”

“At San Francisco.”

“Direct from Sangoa?”

“Direct from Sangoa.”

“And what brought you from Sangoa to San Francisco?”

“A boat.”

“A sailing-ship?”

“No, a large yacht.  Two thousand tons burden.”

“Whose yacht was it?”

“Mine.”

“Then where is it now?”

He reflected a moment.