“Please go on,” she murmured.  “It is right that I should hear it.  I can bear it.”

“There is not much more to tell,” said Godfrey, gently.  “Whoever it was that drew the cord, it was Silva who moistened the glove from the blood-soaked handkerchief, made the marks upon your father’s robe, and then dropped the handkerchief beside his chair.  Then he returned softly to his room, closed the door, put away the glove, cleansed his hands, made sure that Mahbub was in his closet, took his place upon the divan, and waited.  I think we know the rest.  And now, Lester,” he added, turning to me, “we would better be getting to town.  Remember, Swain is still in the Tombs.”

“You are right,” I said, and rose to take my leave, but Miss Vaughan, her eyes shining, stopped me with a hand upon the sleeve.

“I should like to go with you, Mr. Lester,” she said.  “May I?”

The colour deepened in her cheeks as she met my gaze, and I understood what was in her heart.  So did Godfrey.

“I’ll have my car around in ten minutes,” he said, and hastened away.

“I have only to put on my hat,” said Miss Vaughan; and I found her waiting for me in the library, when I entered it after arranging with Simmonds and Goldberger to appear with me in the Tombs court and join me in asking for Swain’s release.

Godfrey’s car came up the drive a moment later, and we were off.

The hour that followed was a silent one.  Godfrey was soon sufficiently occupied in guiding the car through the tangle of traffic.  Miss Vaughan leaned back in a corner of the tonneau lost in thought.  It was just six days since I had seen her first; but those six days had left their mark upon her.  Perhaps, in time, happiness would banish that shadow from her eyes, and that tremulousness from her lips.  Every battle leaves its mark, even on the victor; and the battle she had fought had been a desperate one.  But, as I looked at her, she seemed more complete, more desirable than she had ever been; I could only hope that Swain would measure up to her.

At last, we drew up before the grey stone building, whose barred windows and high wall marked the prison.

“Here we are,” I said, and helped her to alight.

Godfrey greeted the door-keeper as an old friend, and, after a whispered word, we were allowed to pass.  A guard showed us into a bare waiting-room, and Godfrey hastened away to explain our errand to the warden.

“Won’t you sit down?” I asked, but my companion shook her head, with a frightened little smile, and paced nervously up and down, her hands against her heart.  How riotously it was beating I could guess—­with what hope, what fear....

There was a quick step in the corridor, and she stood as if turned to stone.

Then the door was flung open, and, with radiant face, she walked straight into the outstretched arms of the man who stood there.  I heard her muffled sob, as the arms closed about her and she hid her face against his shoulder; then a hand was laid upon my sleeve.