The two men stood in silence, looking down on the wretched creature shivering in the chair. Walter Fane had never been much of a man, and now that his guilt¹ had been brought home to him, he looked more of a craven than ever. A rat would have showed a braver front, for when in a corner that animal will fight. But Fane did not even show his teeth. He lay in the chair, huddled² up, with his face covered, and moaned like a rabbit taken in a trap.  
There seemed no doubt as to his guilt, and none was in the mind of the two men who had hunted him down. The evidence was without a flaw, and if Fane escaped the gallows³, he so richly-deserved, it would be more a miracle than by any natural occurrence. The diary of his wife, identified him with the husband who had grown weary of her. The evidence of the key showed how she had entered the house, which had originally been furnished for her, and it only remained to learn from the lips of the assassin precisely⁴ how the crime had been committed. Fane made no attempt to defend himself. He did not even state that he had been at Westcliff-on-Sea on the night, and at the very time of the murder. He simply lay there crushed, and in spite of the horror of the cold-blooded crime he had committed, in spite of his cowardliness, the two men pitied a human being who could fall so low, and behave so basely. Even the courage of a rogue⁵ can be admired, but there was nothing worthy⁶ of admiration⁷ in the conduct of the man who had thus been caught.
 
Arnold spoke⁸ first, and even though he pitied in some ways the man, he could not render his voice other than cold and harsh. "Well, Fane," he said sharply, "and what is to be done?"
 
Fane did not reply. He only moaned. Tracey answered for him. "There's only one thing to be done, I guess," said he; "hand him over to the police. He deserves it."
 
The miserable⁹ man sprang to his feet with a shrill¹⁰ cry. "No! no! I will kill myself first. You shall not--you shall not"; and he glared at them with dishevelled hair and bloodshot eyes, his face white, his lips grey in an extremity¹¹ of fear. Calvert took no notice but turned to the American.
 
"I am unwilling¹² to do that," he said. "After all I am to marry Laura, and there is her sister to be considered. Should the whole truth be made public, Mrs. Fane will suffer. She is not this man's wife. I must think of her and the child, Tracey."
 
"That's true," assented¹³ the other, pondering. Then he looked up in a brisk manner. "I reckon the best thing is for Fane here to tell us the whole story."
 
"You have heard the story," moaned Fane, still hiding his shameful¹⁴ face.
 
"Not your version of it," said Tracey. "I dare say you'll try and make black appear white, and swear you didn't kill your wife."
 
Fane looked up. "I'll swear to that certainly," he said solemnly. "I did not kill her."
 
Arnold turned from him in disgust, thinking to save his neck he was lying, but Walter caught him by the coat. "Calvert! Calvert! listen to me only a moment--only a moment. I swear by all that's holy that I did not lay a finger on Flora¹⁵."
 
"You acknowledge that she was your wife?"
 
"I do--I do."
 
"And that she came to the house?"
 
"Yes, yes!"
 
"And that you saw her there?"
 
"Not alive--not alive. She was dead when I set eyes on her."
 
"That's a lie, anyhow," said Tracey.
 
"It is not a lie."
 
"It is. You want to save your neck. Hang it man, confess, and die like a man. You killed this poor woman to rid yourself of her."
 
"No! I didn't. I swear I didn't. Oh, why won't you believe me?"
 
"You are such a liar," said Tracey. "But I don't want to be hard on you. Take a drink of brandy. It will pull you together. Calvert, with your permission----"
 
The American went to the side-board and filled a glass. While he was thus occupied, Calvert touched the man on the shoulder. Fane, who had again sunk into the chair, trembling and white, looked up. "Take the brandy," said Calvert quietly, "and then tell us your story. Until I am absolutely convinced of your guilt, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."
 
"Oh bless you--bless you!" Fane seized Arnold's hand, and tried to kiss it, but the young man drew it away, with an ejaculation of disgust, and wiped it.
 
"Be a man," he said angrily. "If you had nerve enough to kill poor Flora in that brutal¹⁶ manner, surely you can face the result."
 
"I didn't kill her, I tell you," cried Fane in an hysterical¹⁷ manner. "I am as innocent as you are. Give me the brandy--give--ah!"
 
He had it to his lips by this time, and drained the glass of neat spirits at a draught¹⁸. Then he coughed, placed the glass on the table, and sat down. The spirit give him the courage he lacked, and after a few moments he looked up, more composed.
 
"Sit down, Calvert, and you, Mr. Tracey. I'm going to make a clean breast of it. But you will not find me so bad as you think."
 
"Whatever you may say, the case is bad enough," growled¹⁹ Tracey, and took a seat. Calvert did the same, and both pair of eyes were turned expectantly on the culprit. Fane began in a hurry, as though he was afraid lest the effect of the spirit should die out, and leave him powerless to finish his gruesome recital²⁰.
 
"I am the husband of Flora Brand," he declared in a low voice, and with a flushed face, induced by shame at his position. "I met her five or six years ago--I forget the exact time--and married her."
 
"Why did you call yourself Wentworth?" asked Arnold.
 
Fane wriggled²¹ and looked down. "I hardly know," he said faintly. "I wanted----" he paused, then out came the truth with a violent effort. "I wanted two strings²² to my bow."
 
"As how?" asked Tracey, watching him.
 
"In this way. I met Flora in a crowd at some fireworks. She was in danger of being crushed. I rescued her. She was pretty, and I admired her. I followed up the acquaintance, and called on her mother."
 
"As Wentworth?"
 
"Yes! I--I----" here Fane wriggled again, and made an effort as though swallowing a lie. "I called myself Wentworth, because I didn't wish her to know my real name. For the same reason I said I was a commercial traveller."
 
"I don't see the reason."
 
"You will soon," said Fane, with a cynical²³ look, for, as the brandy took more effect on him, he became bolder. "I had a small sum of money, and no occupation. If I wanted to be at ease, it was necessary that I should marry a rich woman. I wanted to leave a way of escape."
 
"I see," said Tracey, in a tone of disgust. "You intended to marry Flora under your false name, so that should occasion offer, you might marry a wealthy woman under your real one."
 
"Yes," said Fane calmly; "that was my intention. But I did not intend to marry Flora at all at first. Then I fell so deeply in love with her that I decided²⁴ to ask her to be my wife. She told me of the money she expected from Brand in Australia, and of course that made me eager to marry her."
 
"Then why did you take the name of Brand?"
 
"One of my friends saw me in the neighbourhood, and I could no longer assume the name of Wentworth. Flora's mother was just dead, so I told her that I expected money from a man called Brand, who had the same name as the man in Australia."
 
"You got the name from him?"
 
"Yes
 
"Well," said Calvert, "I don't see your reason for the change of name. Wentworth would have served quite as well to hide your contemplated²⁵ villainy. I suppose you know, Mr. Fane, that even though you married Flora under a false name, the marriage holds good."
 
Fane shivered. "Yes, I learned that from my lawyer when I went to see him about my marriage with Julia. I had no intention of committing bigamy. Circumstances were so strong----"
 
"Oh, chuck that," said Tracey roughly; "get along with the yarn²⁷."
 
"Fane looked angrily at the indignant face of the American, and obeyed. He had no alternative.
 
"I took the name of Brand, and married Flora. We lived at Gunnersbury, and were always talking what we should do, when we got the Brand money. I intended to furnish a house with the money I had."
 
"What about the White Room?"
 
"That was a favourite fancy of Flora's. She loved a white room. I promised to furnish one in the new house."
 
"Then you did not furnish Ajax Villa²⁶ for Miss Mason?"
 
"No; for Flora. News came that the old man was very ill--probably dying. The money had been left to Flora. On the strength of that, I spent my money in furnishing the villa, so that when we inherited the fortune I might take Flora there."
 
"It seems to me you counted your chickens before they were hatched, Fane," said Calvert; "but it's just the sort of thing a weak man like you would do. I suppose you loved Flora in a way."
 
"I did love her. I loved her very dearly. Had I not done so I would have severed²⁸ myself from her when I married Julia. As it was----"
 
"You betrayed both women," finished Calvert. "Yes?"
 
Fane hung his head, for the scorn in Calvert's voice was hard to bear with patience.
 
"I knew Julia for some time, and knew she was rich. She took a fancy to me, and I saw that I would only have to ask her to be my wife, and she would consent. Then came the news that old Brand had married his housekeeper²⁹. I thought it was all up with the chance of getting the money, so I married Julia. As a commercial traveller (as Flora believed me to be) I could stop away for a long time. I induced her to take the Hampstead house, and did not appear in the matter. I acted----"
 
"Like a mean hound!" cried the American wrathfully. "In our country you'd have been tarred and feathered, and lynched on the top it."
 
"There's no need to call names," said Fane cynically³⁰. "I am at your mercy, so----"
 
"You deserve none."
 
"Calvert, I appeal to you," said Fane, turning to the other.
 
"You shall have strict justice, and no more," said Arnold, in an icy tone; "anything I do will be for the sake of your wife and child."
 
Fane shrugged³¹ his shoulders, and sneered³². "Virtuous³³ men," he said; "oh, what virtuous men! But had you been in a dilemma³⁴, as I was, you would have acted as I did. I had little money, having foolishly spent a lot on the furnishing of Ajax Villa. Also, I had to pay the rent. And you know, Calvert, how magnificently it is furnished."
 
"White Room and all," said Calvert, coldly and unsmilingly.
 
"Yes, I arranged that to surprise Flora. But after we learned that the money of Brand would not come to us, we did not get on well together."
 
"I guess you made her suffer," said Tracey savagely³⁵.
 
"No. The fault was with Flora. She thought I was in love with other women, and was jealous."
 
"She had cause to be. Go on."
 
"Not so, ............