Jessica stood alone in her room reading a note which a messenger had just left. The hand that held it trembled slightly, and she walked nearer to the window to read, although the light was still good, as it was not late.

"My Dear Jessica"—she read—"I will be unable to call this afternoon, on account of a matter of grave importance, but shall be most anxious about Carlita. You are so good to me—have been so good during all this distressing illness of hers—that I am sure you will not think it too much trouble to send me a line concerning her condition, which will reach me upon my return at eight o'clock this evening. Please let it arrive as near that hour as you can, so that I may receive the latest news, and know if any change has taken place. Yours gratefully and affectionately,

"Leith Pierrepont."

She read it through the second time, then crushed it in her hand, smiling grimly.

"Eight o'clock," she mused. "And Stolliker said the train from Albany arrived about nine, with the Mexican officer on board. I wonder if you would have written in a hand so firm if you had been aware of the sword that hangs above your head, my dear Leith? I wonder if the consuming tenderness of this great affection will receive a shock when you hear the truth tonight? How little we know in the morning the climax of the day!"

During all the remaining hours of the afternoon she sat quite still, thinking, thinking, planning, only once going to Carlita's room, but returning to her own when she saw that all there was as it had been. She even locked the door upon her mother, and would allow no entrance. She denied her maid admission, but going to the door, exclaimed:

"A cup of tea—that is all. But strong, strong—strong, mind you!"

She took it with her own hands, locked the door, drank it without either sugar, cream, or even lemon, and then with steady hand began to dress herself.

She had never been so careful in the arrangement of her hair, never so particular in the selection of her costume, never so dissatisfied with herself when the operation was completed.

It was a street-gown she had donned, but not the tailor-made which she ordinarily wore on such occasions. It was a little French thing in tan and cerise, with a tiny violet bonnet that sat jauntily upon her well-poised head, and to one less exacting than herself had never appeared to better advantage. She was really more than beautiful, more than fascinating as she turned from the mirror and looked at the clock.

"A quarter to eight," she muttered. "I shall be waiting for you when you arrive, my dear Leith, instead of the note you expect."

She drew on her gloves, and then alone and unattended left the house.

She had not ordered her carriage, but when she reached the corner called one and gave the address to the coachman. She dismissed him at the door of Leith's apartment. The hall-boy looked at her curiously when she requested to be directed to Leith's apartments, but showed her there without a word, and Leith's valet admitted her to his presence.

"Mr. Pierrepont is at home," he answered in reply to her question. "He came in not five minutes ago."

Leith turned and came swiftly toward her when he saw who it was that had entered, taking both her hands in his and pressing them softly, as some of the color brought by the cutting March wind receded from his cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked swiftly. "Something must have happened to bring you. Carlita! How is she?"

A little curl of scorn flashed over Jessica's lips. Carlita! Always Carlita! She was risking her reputation in coming to him, yet his first thought was of Carlita!

She paused to draw off her gloves before replying, he watching her breathlessly. He placed a chair for her, but she motioned him aside and stood leaning against the mantel-shelf, as she had often seen him do in happier times. When she spoke, there was a repressed, nervous hoarseness in her tone that gave a sort of uncanny earnestness to her words.

"I have not come about Carlita," she said, "save incidentally. It is something connected with—you, with your own vital interests, that has tempted me to brave the censure of the world—to risk my reputation."

Leith smiled.

"It is not quite so bad as that," he said, soothingly. "My reputation is not so dreadful that your own is compromised by coming to my rooms."

"There isn't time to stand on trifles," she interrupted, dropping her arm from the mantel and going a step nearer to him. "Moments are precious, and yet I find it very difficult to say that which I must. You are standing in the most deadly peril! At any moment it may be too late to save yourself—and I have come to warn you!"

"What can you mean?" asked Leith, the smile fading.

"You are accused of the murder of Olney Winthrop!"

"I? Are you mad?"

"Heaven knows I wish I were, but it is too infamously true. Even now the detective, with an officer from Mexico, are here to arrest you and return you there. And the woman whom you have loved, the woman you would have made your wife, the woman in whose pretended illness you have shown such interest, is the person who has hatched the plot, who has bought your conviction, who has won the contempt and loathing of all men by promising to become your wife in order to betray you to the gallows!"

She had gone up to him and was looking up into his eyes, which had become glassy and blood-shot, but after a moment's awful pause he turned from her with a little gesture of disbelief.

"Good God!" he muttered. "To accuse—her—of that!"

"It is true! I swear to you it is true!" cried Jessica, desperately. "It was she who accused you to the detective whom she sent to discover proof of your crime. She told him that you loved her, that you had killed your best friend in order that you might steal his promised wife from him. She sent Edmond Stolliker there, had the body of Olney Winthrop exhumed, and discovered that you had lied, that he had not been shot, but had been suffocated in a mine!"

Pierrepont groaned.

She paused just long enough to allow her words full force, then continued rapidly:

"She detained you by her side by every means at her avail until Stolliker should obtain such proof as was necessary for your conviction, and while he was there seeking it, paying thousands of dollars for it if necessary, for she had put her entire fortune at his command, Manuel Meriaz came here. You remember the evening at our house? You and he left the drawing-room together. She left the poker-table and followed. She listened to your conversation from behind a portiÈre that screens the library from an anteroom, and the following day she sent for Meriaz. She purchased from him a story, bought it with gold, of how you had gone for a walk with Olney, and when you were in a lonely and deserted place, you had pushed him down the old Donato Mine, where he was suffocated with the gases before any one could go to his assistance. She had him make affidavit to this, and sent it to Stolliker in Mexico. On this story he has obtained papers of extradition, and will arrest you tonight."

"And Carlita has done this?"

"She has."

"But less than a week ago she offered five thousand dollars to the man who would save my life!"

"It was in order that she might not lose her cherished revenge at the last hour. She promised to be your wife to keep you here. She loathes you with all the fierce hatred of her Mexican nature."

Pierrepont groaned. There were so many things that he remembered in that moment. Her desire that their engagement should not be announced, her cry to him: "Can't you see that I am only doing it to betray you to ruin and death?" Was not that confirmation of what Jessica had said? He groaned again.

"And she believes me guilty of this crime!" he cried, covering his suffering face with his hands. "She believes that I killed Olney, and in this dastardly way!"

His back was toward Jessica. She crept up to him, and before he was aware of her intention her arms were about him, those shining, seductive arms that she knew so well how to use.

"Ah, Leith," she murmured, softly, "if she had really loved you, she would have known you never did it; but the toils are about you so strong that Hercules himself could not break them. There is but one way, dear, and that lies in my power. I can save you, Leith. I have thought day and night since all the details of this sickening story came to me, and I have found the way. I—oh, Leith, you will forgive me in an hour like this, will you not?—I love you! So well, that not even your indifference has had power to kill that love! I would go through life your too willing slave but to be permitted to love you, to be near you, to serve you. You have thought me hard and cold and cruel sometimes; reckless, too, and careless of what I did, but it has only been because of this indifference of yours which has been killing me! Look in my face and read the truth, Leith! See! I have lost all shame, all fear! It is swallowed up in my great love. I can save you, dear, and I will, and all I ask in return is that you let me love you. I do not even ask for yours in return, now, because I know when you have seen the depth and strength of my devotion, it will come in time! Leith—darling—will you let me save you?"

"Save me from what?" he questioned, stonily.

"From the cruel death that she has prepared for you! From the shame and humiliation she would heap upon you! I tell you she has bought your conviction with her gold!"

"And what is it that you propose to have me do?" he asked, his voice hard and cold as iron.

"Fly with me!" she exclaimed, breathlessly. "Only until such time as this story can be proved in all its falsity. Show her that you do not care. Show her that she has not hurt you with this foul lie that she has concocted. Leith, come with me!"

He laughed aloud, his mouth rigid and drawn while the grewsome sound escaped, and loosened her fingers from his neck.

"No!" he cried, heavily. "I will await the officers she has sent here. I will stand the trial she has prepared."

"But there will be no possibility of escape for you. I tell you that, innocent or guilty, there will be no possibility of escape!"

"Then I will die upon the gallows!"

"Leith, you must be mad! Is the thought of life with me so hard to bear? Is death at her hands preferable to life and love at mine?"

"Yes," he cried savagely, fiercely, "it is! If she has purchased my ruin, she shall have it. If she wishes me to stand trial for this crime I will do it!"

"For God's sake, listen to reason!" Jessica panted. "You can't know what you are doing. You can't realize what those people are."

"Do you think I would fly from a crime I never committed?"

"But they will give you no opportunity to prove your innocence. They will lock you up in one of their awful prisons, from which there will be no escape but death. What care have they for life? What is a soul to them? If they would kill you for a coat, they would betray you to the gallows for less than a hundred dollars. For the love of Heaven, listen to reason! Hark! There is a ring at the bell. It must be Stolliker and the officer. Leith, the last moment is here! Think quick, and answer me! Will you let me save you?"

"No!"

"Oh, Leith, Leith I love you! It is life with me or death for her and without her. Listen: they are in the hall. For God's sake, come!"

He did not speak. His face was white and set as marble. His lips were compressed to a straight line; his eyes burned fiercely. He threw his arm about her and led her quickly to a side door. She thought he had yielded to her entreaties, but he thrust her inside the room without even a murmured word of thanks for her effort to save him, closed the door and turned the key in the lock, then faced the other door through which his visitor must enter.

Already it had been flung open.