We were left alone.

An avalanche of silence overwhelmed us.

Heaven knows how long we remained speechless and motionless--I in my wheel-chair, he standing on the hearthrug staring awfully in front of him.

At last he drew a deep breath and threw up his arms and flung himself down on a leather-covered couch, where he sat, elbows on knees and his head in his hands.

After a while he lifted a drawn face.
"It's true, Duncan," said he, "and you know it." "I don't know it," I replied stoutly, "any more than you do." He rose in his nervous way and came swiftly to me and clapped both his hands on my frail shoulders and bent over me--he was a little man, as I have told you--and put his face so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my cheek.
"Upon your soul as a Christian you know that man wasn't lying." I looked into his eyes--about six inches from mine.
"Boyce never murdered Althea," I said.
"But he is the man--the man I've been looking for." I pushed him away with both hands, using all my strength.