“You are not going to be angry with me, are you?  It was foolish of me to listen to Mr. Lawley after all you have told me, and it did look like a want of trust in you, I know.  But you, who are so strong and wise, must make allowance for a woman who is neither.  It is all so terrible that I am quite unstrung; but say you are not really displeased with me, for that would hurt me most of all.”

Oh!  Delilah!  That concluding stroke of the shears severed the very last lock, and left me—­morally speaking—­as bald as a billiard ball.  Henceforth I was at her mercy and would have divulged, without a scruple, the uttermost secrets of my principal, but that that astute gentleman had placed me beyond the reach of temptation.

“As to being angry with you,” I answered, “I am not, like Thorndyke, one to essay the impossible, and if I could be angry it would hurt me more than it would you.  But, in fact, you are not to blame at all, and I am an egotistical brute.  Of course you were alarmed and distressed; nothing could be more natural.  So now let me try to chase away your fears and restore your confidence.

“I have told you what Thorndyke said to Reuben:  that he had good hopes of making his innocence clear to everybody.  That alone should have been enough.”

“I know it should,” murmured Juliet remorsefully; “please forgive me for my want of faith.”

“But,” I continued, “I can quote you the words of one to whose opinions you will attach more weight.  Mr. Anstey was here less than half-an-hour ago—­”

“Do you mean Reuben’s counsel?”

“Yes.”

“And what did he say?  Oh, do tell me what he said.”

“He said, in brief, that he was quite confident of obtaining an acquittal, and that the prosecution would receive a great surprise.  He seemed highly pleased with his brief, and spoke with great admiration of Thorndyke.”

“Did he really say that—­that he was confident of an acquittal?” Her voice was breathless and unsteady, and she was clearly, as she had said, quite unstrung.  “What a relief it is,” she murmured incoherently; “and so very, very kind of you!” She wiped her eyes and laughed a queer, shaky little laugh; then, quite suddenly, she burst into a passion of sobbing.

Hardly conscious of what I did, I drew her gently towards me, and rested her head on my shoulder whilst I whispered into her ear I know not what words of consolation; but I am sure that I called her “dear Juliet,” and probably used other expressions equally improper and reprehensible.  Presently she recovered herself, and, having dried her eyes, regarded me somewhat shamefacedly, blushing hotly, but smiling very sweetly nevertheless.

“I am ashamed of myself,” she said, “coming here and weeping on your bosom like a great baby.  It is to be hoped that your other clients do not behave in this way.”

Whereat we both laughed heartily, and, our emotional equilibrium being thus restored, we began to think of the object of our meeting.