“ ‘God forgive you!’ cried Madame Charpentier, throwing up her hands and sinking back in her chair. ‘You have murdered your brother.’

“ ‘Arthur would rather that we spoke the truth,’ the girl answered firmly.

“ ‘You had best tell me all about it now,’ I said. ‘Half-confidences are worse than none. Besides, you do not know how much we know of it.’

“ ‘On your head be it, Alice!’ cried her mother; and then, turning to me, ‘I will tell you all, sir. Do not imagine that my agitation on behalf of my son arises from any fear lest he should have had a hand in this terrible affair. He is utterly innocent of it. My dread is, however, that in your eyes and in the eyes of others he may appear to be compromised. That however is surely impossible. His high character, his profession, his antecedents would all forbid it.’

“ ‘Your best way is to make a clean breast of the facts,’ I answered. ‘Depend upon it, if your son is innocent he will be none the worse.’