that first tragedy rest—this second one will be enough—and, after all, Tremaine has only one life for the law to take.”
“Pardon me,” she said quickly, holding out her hand. “I see I have offended you. You must forgive me.”
“Oh, I do,” he said, taking her hand and smiling into her eyes—allowing himself a moment’s reward. “Even a yellow journalist, Miss Croydon, has his reticences. That’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Not when one knows them,” she answered, and opened the door for us.
Thomas was waiting in the hall.
“Anything else, sir?” he asked.
“No,” said Godfrey. “We’ve finished here. Now let us have our trap.”
We stopped a moment in the library to say goodbye to Delroy. He came forward eagerly to meet us.
“Well?” he asked. “Can you clear Jack?”
“Yes,” said Godfrey, “we can. What’s more, we will.”
“Thank God!” and Delroy passed his hand across his forehead. “This whole thing has been a sort of terrible nightmare to me, Mr. Godfrey. I’m hoping that I may even yet wake up and find that it was all only a dream.”
Godfrey smiled a little bitterly.
“I’m afraid you won’t do that, Mr. Delroy,” he said; “but, at least, I believe you’ll find that, in the end, it will sweep a great unhappiness out of your life. And I’m sure that, with Mr. Lester’s help, I can clear Drysdale.”
