“Well, what then?” asked Margie, defiantly.

“Wait and see.  I followed you out that night, with no definite purpose in my mind.  Perhaps it was curiosity to see what a romantic woman, about to be married to a man she does not love, would do, I stood outside the hedge of arbor vitae while you were inside.  I saw the tall, shadowy figure which bent its head upon your hand, and I saw you put your mouth where his had been.  When you went away I did not go.  Something kept me behind.  A moment afterward, I heard voices inside the hedge—­just one exclamation from each person—­I could swear to that! and then—­O heaven!”

“What then!”

“A blow! a dull, terrible thud, a smothered groan, a fall—­and I stood there powerless to move—­stricken dumb and motionless!  And while I stood transfixed, some person rushed past me, breathless, panting, reckless of everything save escape!  Margie, it was so dark that I could not be positive, but I am morally certain that the person I saw was Archer Trevlyn!”

“My God!” Margie cowered down to the floor, and hid her face in the folds of Alexandrine’s dress.

“Hear me through,” Miss Lee went on relentlessly, her face growing colder and harder with every word.  “Hear me through and then decide for yourself.  Let no opinion of mine bias your judgment.  I stood there a moment longer, and then, when suspended volition came back to me, I fled from the place.  Margie, words cannot express to you my distress, my bitter, burning anguish!  It was like to madness.  But sooner than have divulged my suspicions, I would have killed myself!  For I loved Archer Trevlyn with a depth and fervor which your cool nature has no conception of.  I love him still, though I feel convinced, from the bottom of my soul, that he is a murderer!”

Her cheeks grew brilliant as red roses, her eyes sparkled like stars.  Margie looked into the bewilderingly beautiful face with suspended breath.  The woman’s passionate presence scorched her; she could not be herself, with those eyes of fire blazing down into hers.

Alexandrine resumed, “I am wasting time.  Let me hurry on to the end, or your lover will be here before I finish.”

“My lover!” cried Margie, in a dazed sort of way, “my lover?  O yes I remember, Archer Trevlyn was coming.  Is it nearly time for him?”

Alexandrine took the shrinking, cowering girl by the shoulders, and lifted her into a seat.

“Rouse yourself, Margie.  I have not done.  I want you to hear it all.”

“Yes, I am hearing.”

It was pitiful to see how helpless and weak the poor child had become.  All sense of joy and sorrow seemed to have died out of her.

“I feared so much that when the body of the murdered man should be discovered, there would be some clue which would point to the guilty party!  Such a night as I passed, while they searched for the body!  I thought I should go mad!” She hid her face in her hands, and her figure shook like a leaf in the autumn wind.