The door was opened by Mother Bonneton, very sleepy and arrayed in a wrapper of purple and gold pieced together from discarded altar coverings.  She eyed the young man sternly but said nothing, for Alice was at her back holding the lamp and there was something in the American’s face, something half reckless, half appealing, that startled her.  She felt the cold breath of a sinister happening and regretted Bonneton’s absence at the church.

“Well, I’m here,” said Kittredge with a queer little smile.  “I couldn’t come any sooner and—­I can’t stay.”

The girl questioned him with frightened eyes.  “Isn’t it over yet?”

He looked at her sharply.  “I don’t know what you mean by ‘it,’ but, as a matter of fact, it hasn’t begun yet.  If you have any questions you’d better ask ’em.”

Alice turned and said quietly:  “Was the woman who came in the carriage the one you told us about?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been with her ever since?”

“No.  I was with her only about ten minutes.”

“Is she in trouble?”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

Kittredge nodded slowly.  “Oh, I’m in trouble, all right.”

“Can I help you?”

He shook his head.  “The only way you can help is by believing in me.  I haven’t lied to you.  I hadn’t seen that woman for over six months.  I didn’t know she was coming here.  I don’t love her, I love you, but I did love her, and what I have done to-night I—­I had to do.”  He spoke with growing agitation which he tried vainly to control.

Alice looked at him steadily for a moment and then in a low voice she spoke the words that were pressing on her heart:  “What have you done?”

“There’s no use going into that,” he answered unsteadily.  “I can only ask you to trust me.”

“I trust you, Lloyd,” she said.

While they were talking Mother Bonneton had gone to the window attracted by sounds from below, and as she peered down her face showed surprise and then intense excitement.

“Kind saints!” she muttered.  “The courtyard is full of policemen.”  Then with sudden understanding she exclaimed:  “Perhaps we will know now what he has been doing.”  As she spoke a heavy tread was heard on the stairs and the murmur of voices.

“It’s nothing,” said Alice weakly.

“Nothing?” mocked the old woman.  “Hear that!”

An impatient hand sounded at the door while a harsh voice called out those terrifying words:  “Open in the name of the law.”

With a mingling of alarm and satisfaction Mother Bonneton obeyed the summons, and a moment later, as she unlatched the door, a fat man with a bristling red mustache and keen eyes pushed forward into the room where the lovers were waiting.  Two burly policemen followed him.

“Ah!” exclaimed Gibelin with a gesture of relief as his eye fell on Kittredge.  Then producing a paper he said:  “I am from headquarters.  I am looking for”—­he studied the writing in perplexity—­“for M. Lo-eed Keetredge.  What is your name?”