"Well!"

It is Mr. Wedron, of the New York Bar, who utters this monosyllable. He sits at the library table in the little lawyer's sanctum; opposite him is his host, and a little farther away, stands Ray Vandyck; a living, breathing, gloomy faced but mute interrogation point. He has just been introduced to Mr. Wedron, and he is anxiously waiting to hear how these two men propose to save from the gallows, a man who will make no effort to save himself.

"Well!" repeats Mr. Wedron, "you have seen the prisoner?"

"We have seen him."

"And the result?"

"Was what you predicted. See, here in my note book, I have his very words; you can judge for yourself."

O'Meara passes his note book across to his questioner, and the latter reads rapidly, the short sentences scrawled by his host.

"So," he says, lifting his eyes from the note book. "Doctor Heath refuses to defend himself. Mr. Vandyck," turning suddenly upon Ray, "sit down, sir; draw your chair up here; I wish to look at you, sir."

Not a little astonished, but obeying orders like a veteran, Ray complies mutely.

"Now then," says Mr. Wedron, with brisk good nature, "let's get down to business. Mr. Vandyck, I am here to save Clifford Heath; I was at the inquest; I have had long experience in this sort of business, and I arrive at my conclusions rapidly, after a way of my own. O'Meara, prepare to write a synopsis of our reasonings."

"Of your reasonings," corrects the lawyer, drawing pen and paper toward himself.

"Of my reasonings then. First; are you ready, O'Meara?"

"All ready."

"Well, then; and don't stop to be astonished at anything I may say. First, Clifford Heath knows who stole his handkerchief; and who stole his knife."

A grunt of approbation from O'Meara; a stare of astonishment from Ray.

"For some reason, Heath has resolved to screen the thief." Scratch, scratch. "But he does not feel at all sure that the one who stole his belongings is the one who struck the blow."

Ray stares in astonishment.

"Now then, there has been a plot on foot against Heath, and I believe him to have been aware of it." He is looking at Ray, and that young man starts guiltily.

"Put down this, O'Meara," says Mr. Wedron, suddenly withdrawing his gaze. "Doctor Heath has nothing to blush for, in his past. He withholds his story through pride, not through fear; but it may be necessary to tell it in court, in order to prove that he did not know John Burrill previous to the meeting in Nance Burrill's cottage; and if he refuses to tell his story, I must tell it for him."

It is O'Meara's turn to be surprised, and he writes on with eager eyes and bated breath.

"And now, O'Meara," concludes Mr. Wedron, "there were two parties sworn to-day, who did not tell all they knew concerning this affair. One was—Mr. Francis Lamotte."

Ray breathes again.

"The other was—Mr. Raymond Vandyck."

Ray colors hotly, and half starts up from his seat. O'Meara lays down his pen, and stares across at his contemporary, but that individual proceeds with unruffled serenity.

"Mr. Vandyck did not tell all that he knows, because he feared that in some way his testimony might be turned against Clifford Heath. Here he can have no such scruples. Our first step in this case, must be to find out who Clifford Heath suspects; and why he will not denounce him."

"And that bids fair to be a tough undertaking," says O'Meara.

"Not at all, Mr. O'Meara. I expect that this young man can give us all the help we need."

"I," burst out Ray. "You mistake, sir; I can not help you."

"Softly, sir; softly; reflect a little, this is no time for over-nice scruples; besides, I know too much already. We three are here to help Clifford Heath. Mr. Vandyck, can you not trust to our discretion; you may be able, unknown to yourself, to speak the word that will free your friend from the foulest charge that was ever preferred against a man. Will you answer my questions frankly, or—must we set detectives to hunt for the information you could so easily give?"

"Softly, Sir; softly; reflect a little."

The calm, resolute tones of the stranger have their weight with the mystified Ray. Instinctively he feels the power of the man, and the weight of the argument.

"What do you wish to know, sir?" he says, quietly. "I am ready to serve Clifford Heath."

"Ah, very good;" signing to O'Meara. "First, sir, as a friend of Doctor Heath, do you know if he has recently had any trouble, any disappointment? He is a young man. Has he been jilted, or—"

"Ah-h-h!" breaks in O'Meara; "why didn't you ask me that, Wedron? Upon my soul, I have heard plenty about this same business."

"Then take the witness stand, sir. What do you know? You won't be over delicate in bringing facts to the surface."

"Why," rubbing his hands serenely, "I can't see your drift, Wedron, any more than can Vandyck here; but I have heard Mrs. O'Meara discuss the probable future of Clifford Heath, until I have it by heart. Not long ago she was sure he, Heath, was in love with Miss Wardour, and we all thought she rather favored him, although it's hard to guess at a woman's real feelings. Later, quite lately, in fact, the thing seemed to be all off, and my wife has commented on it not a little."

"Oh!" ejaculates Mr. Wedron. "And—had Doctor Heath any rivals?"

"Miss Wardour has always plenty of lovers; but I believe that Mr. Frank Lamotte was the only rival he ever had any reason to fear."

"Ah! so Mr. Frank Lamotte has been Heath's rival? Handsome fellow, that Lamotte! Mr. Vandyck," turning suddenly upon Ray, "the ice is now broken. What do you know, or think, or believe, about this attachment to Miss Wardour?"

"I think that Heath really hoped to win her at one time, and I believed his chances were good. Something, I don't know what, has come between them."

"Do you think she has refused him?"

"Honestly, I don't, sir. I think there is a misunderstanding."

"And young Lamotte, what of him?"

"I suppose he has come in ahead; in fact, have very good cause for thinking him engaged to Miss Wardour."

"Bah!" cries O'Meara, contemptuously, "I don't believe it. There's nothing sly about Constance. She would have told me or my wife."

"I'll tell you my reasons for saying this, gentlemen," says Ray, after a moment's hesitation. "I'll tell you all I can about the business. Some time ago, shortly after Heath's last encounter with Burrill, I came into town one day to keep an appointment with him."

"Stay! Can you recall the date?"

"It was on Monday, I believe, and early in the month."

"Go on."

"I met one of the Wardour servants, who gave me a note. It was a request that I wait upon Miss Wardour at once; she wished to consult me on some private matters. Miss Wardour and I, you must understand, are very old friends."

"Yes, yes; go on."

"I excused myself to Heath, and, just as I was leaving the office, Lamotte came in. He challenged me, in badinage, as though he had a right to say who should visit Wardour. He overheard me telling Heath where I was going."

"Yes."

"During my call, I made some allusion to Lamotte, speaking of him as her accepted lover. She did not deny the charge my language implied, and I came away believing her engaged to Lamotte. When I returned to Heath's office, Lamotte had gone, and Heath asked me, rather abruptly, if I believed Miss Wardour would marry Lamotte. I replied, that I did believe it then, for the first time."

"Ah, yes! Mr. Vandyck, are you aware that on this same day, this Monday of which you speak, Clifford Heath received an anonymous note, in a feminine hand; warning him against danger, and begging him to leave town?"

"What, sir?" starting and coloring, hotly.

"Ah, you are aware of that fact. Did you see that note, Mr. Vandyck?"

"I did," uneasily.

"How did Heath treat it?"

"With utter indifference."

"So! And did he, to your knowledge, receive other warnings?"

"I am quite sure he did not."

"During your call at Wardour Place, did Miss Wardour mention Doctor Heath."

"She—did," reluctantly.

"She did. Can you recall what was said."

"It was soon after that street encounter with Burrill. I related the circumstance; she had not heard of it."

"And did she seem unfriendly toward Heath?"

"On the contrary I think she was, and is, his friend."

"You met Lamotte in Heath's office. Does Lamotte go there often?"

"Why, he made a pretence of studying with Heath; but he never stuck very close to anything; he had read a little in the city, I believe."

"Then he is quite at home in Heath's office?"

"Quite at home."

"Thank you, Mr. Vandyck." Mr. Wedron draws back from the table and smiles blandly upon poor Ray. "Thank you, sir. You are an admirable witness; for the second time to-day you have evaded leading questions, and withheld more than you have told. But I won't bear malice. I see that you are resolved not to tell why Miss Wardour summoned you to her presence on that particular day; so, I won't insist upon it—I will find out in some other way."

"Thank you," retorts Ray, rather stiffly. "It will be a relief to me, if you can do so. Can I answer any more questions, sir?"

"Not to-night. And, Mr. Vandyck, as a friend of Clifford Heath's, we ask you to help us, and to share our confidence. Now, we must find out first, if Constance Wardour is engaged to Lamotte; and second, the cause of the estrangement between herself and Doctor Heath. Can you suggest a plan?"

"Yes," replies Ray, a smile breaking over his face. "Send for Mrs. Aliston, and question her as you have me."

"Good!" cries Mr. Wedron. "Excellent!"