“That I am not going to the wall if I can help it.”

“How will you help it?”

“I have an accomplice;” and this time he was able to look at Mrs. Dinneford with such a fixed and threatening gaze that her eyes fell.

“You have?” she questioned, in a husky voice.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Mrs. Helen Dinneford.  And do you think for a moment that to save myself I would hesitate to sacrifice her?”

The lady’s face grew white.  She tried to speak, but could not.

“I am talking plainly, as you desired, madam,” continued Freeling.  “You led me into this thing.  It was no scheme of mine; and if more evil consequences are to come, I shall do my best to save my own head.  Let the hurt go to where it rightfully belongs.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Dinneford tried to rally herself.

“Just this,” was answered:  “if I am dragged into court, I mean to go in as a witness, and not as a criminal.  At the first movement toward an indictment, I shall see the district attorney, whom I know very well, and give him such information in the case as will lead to fixing the crime on you alone, while I will come in as the principal witness.  This will make your conviction certain.”

“Devil!” exclaimed Mrs. Dinneford, her white face convulsed and her eyes starting from their sockets with rage and fear.  “Devil!” she repeated, not able to control her passion.

“Then you know me,” was answered, with cool self-possession, “and what you have to expect.”

Neither spoke for a considerable time.  Up to this period they had been alone in the parlor.  Guests of the house now came in and took seats near them.  They arose and walked the floor for a little while, still in silence, then passed into an adjoining parlor that happened to be empty, and resumed the conference.

“This is a last resort,” remarked Freeling, softening his voice as they sat down—­“a card that I do not wish to play, and shall not if I can help it.  But it is best that you should know that it is in my hand.  If there is any better way of escape, I shall take it.”

“You spoke of going away,” said Mrs. Dinneford.

“Yes.  But that involves a great deal.”

“What?”

“The breaking up of my business, and loss of money and opportunities that I can hardly hope ever to regain.”

“Why loss of money?”

“I shall have to wind up hurriedly, and it will be impossible to collect more than a small part of my outstanding claims.  I shall have to go away under a cloud, and it will not be prudent to return.  Most of these claims will therefore become losses.  The amount of capital I shall be able to take will not be sufficient to do more than provide for a small beginning in some distant place and under an assumed name.  On the other hand, if I remain and fight the thing through, as I have no doubt I can, I shall keep my business and my place in society here—­hurt,