She sat on the bench and stared at her hands in her lap.

Someone sidled up to her.

"What you in for, dearie ?"

There were others crowding round her.

She said: "I killed a man."

They were astonished. They fell away from her in shocked surprise.

She killed a man. She was a murderess.

They took her away to question her.

"You shot this man. Why?"

"Because I wished to."

"Was he your lover?"

"There had been talk of marriage."

"And he was trying to ... break away? Was that it?"

"He was not trying to break away."

"But you shot him?"

"I shot him."

"For what reason?"

"Because it was better that he should die."

"Do you know that you have committed a capital offence?"

"Yes."

"Do you not want to say something in your defence?"

"No."

"You must want to make a statement."

"I made my statement. I shot him. It is better that he should die."

"You may not shoot a man just because you think he ought to die."

She was silent.

"Look here, we want to help you. You'll want to put up a defence."

"There is no defence. I shot him. I would do the same again. It was necessary that he should die."

She would say no more than that. She was waiting now ... waiting for the end and the hangman's rope.

In the cell nobody molested her. 'The Queer One' they called her. She had shot a man in Hyde Park and wouldn't say why, except that she wanted him to die. She was certainly a queer one.

She would sit thinking and sometimes smile to herself.

It seemed such a short while ago that she was at the Convent; she had been alive only a short time. Eighteen years. It was not very long to have lived, to have been deceived, to have grown tired of life and to have committed murder.

Always with her were thoughts of the nun who had haunted her childhood. Now there seemed a significance in that haunting. Hers was a similar case. They would take her out and hang her outside Newgate Jail; men and women would come to see her hanged. They would say: "That is Melisande St. Martin, the girl from the Convent who shot a man." They would laugh perhaps and shout insults.

It was not such a cruel fate as that which had befallen the nun. She would not be walled in to die slowly. The noose would be put about her neck and she would pass on to a new life.

One of the warders came to her. He bent over and shook her by the arm.

"Come this way," he said. "You're wanted." , She rose mechanically. More questions then? It did not matter. She would not tell them why she had killed him. If she did, his death would have been in vain. No one should know that she was Sir Charles Trevenning's daughter and that she had killed to preserve his secret.

She followed the man through corridors, up staircases. She did not care where they took her; she did not care what they asked her. She would be firm in her decision to remain silent.

She was taken into a room and the door was locked behind her. A man rose. Her calm deserted her then. She put her hands to her eyes to brush away a vision which she did not believe to be real.

"Melisande!" Fermor came towards her; he had taken her hands; he was holding her against him.

All the numbness was deserting her now. She was becoming alive again. Life and Death seemed to be in that room—and Life was becoming attractive again.

"Why ... why did you come?" she stammered.

"Why! Did you think I would not? As soon as I knew ... as soon as I heard. I have been looking for you ... searching for you. Why did you run away ... completely lose yourself?"

She threw back her heac and looked at him. Now she could do so without fear. She was lost. Death was already claiming her and Fermor belonged to life.

"I am glad ... so glad you came," she said.

"Certainly I came." His eyes flashed. She had forgotten the power of him. "We've got to get you out of this mess. We've got to get you out of this place."

"This is prison," she said. "This is where felons are put. How can you get me out of here? I shot a man."

"Why? Why? We must build up a defence. We're going to have the best possible people working on this. You don't think we're going to let... to let..."

"To let them hang me? You can't stop them, Fermor. I shot a man. I am a murderess."

"Why, Melisande? You! To kill! It's incredible. I don't believe it. It was self-defence. They cannot hang you for doing it in self-defence. We're going to have the best lawyers in England."

She smiled slowly. "Then you really love me, Fermor?"

He took her face in his hands and kissed it—not in the way she expected him to kiss, but tenderly as he had done once or twice in the past.

'Melisande ... Melisande ... why did this happen? How did this happen ? Why did you run away ? I searched everywhere. I was frantic. I was still searching ... all these months. At least through this I have found you."

"We found each other too late, Fermor. If we had known what would happen, perhaps we should have arranged our lives differently in the beginning. But why talk of that now? I am glad you came. I shall always remember it. When I am on the platform ... and the people are round me watching me ... when my last moments are upon me I shall say: 'He came to me in the end. He cared enough for that... .' "

He shook her. "For Heaven's sake, stop! It shall never get to that. You are going to be free."

"It cannot be. I am guilty. I am a murderess. ... I thought I was when I saw Caroline carried away, but then I saw her in the Park and I knew that I was not. I did not know then that very soon I should be ..."

"Don't!" he commanded. "You're hysterical. Now they won't give us long. I want to know everything. Then I shall send the best possible lawyer to you. I am going to get you out of this."

"But how can you?"

"Money can do a good deal."

"But not that ... not that."

"I shall spend everything I have on this if need be. And then ... I shall find means of getting more."

"Oh Fermor," she said, "you were the best one. I didn't see it. You laughed at goodness, at virtue. You were the wicked one, I thought; but now I am not so sure."

"There's no time for such talk. Suffice it that I have found you, and now there'll be no more running away. I am going to get you out of this. I will. I swear it. Nothing shall stop me."

"Fermor, you make me wish ... you make me want to live ... and I was reconciled to dying."

"I won't have you speak such nonsense. You're not going to die. It was in self-defence. That's all you have to say. He was threatening you with the pistol and it went off. That is what you must say."

"But it was not so, Fermor. It is something of which I cannot tell you. I killed him. Deliberately I raised the pistol which I had taken from my employer's drawer. I lifted it and killed him because ... because I wanted him to die."

"He had threatened you. He had threatened to kill you. It was self-defence."

"No, Fermor. No!"

"Listen, Melisande. There will be a trial. Everything that can be done, shall be done. There are ways—have no doubt of that—and I shall find them."

"Fermor," she said, "why? It is better that I should be here. What good is there in life?"

"This is madness! What good? You will be with me—that is the good which will come out of this, and I shall not be searching for you ceaselessly."

"And Caroline ... your wife?"

"She is grieved. She blames herself in some way."

"She ... she blames herself! How does she know? What does she know?"

"She knows what she reads in the papers."

"It is in the papers then?"

"People are talking about the mysterious shooting in Hyde Park. They are all saying that he was your lover, that he had promised you marriage and jilted you."

She laughed.

"Was it so? Was it so?"

"I can answer that. It was not so."

"What was it, Melisande? Tell me, darling. I must know the truth. We must know everything. We must be prepared for cross-examination. But do not be afraid. We will have the best men on our side. Everything that I can do shall be done, and, believe me, I can do a good deal. I have friends who will move Heaven and Earth. Melisande, do not be afraid. Tell me everything. I tell you, I can get you out of this. I can save you."

She said: "There is so much I want to know. I did not think I cared, but I do. Caroline ... is she very ill?"

"She was badly hurt. She walks with difficulty."

"Ah ... I did that."

"Nonsense! She did it herself."

"And you, Fermor... you and Caroline ? How is life between you ?"

"How can it be anything than what it is ... what it always has been."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for others. Be sorry for yourself. You are in a terrible position, my darling. That is why you must be sensible ... reasonable. We need all our wits if we are to bring this off. We'll do it, never fear. But it is not easy. We have to work at it with ail our might and strength, with every means at our disposal."

"You are so strong," she said.

"And here to defend you ... to make up for everything ... to show you that I will always be there whenever you want me. Don't be afraid, Melisande. But you must be sensible ... reasonable."

"Reasonable ... sensible! They are always telling me that. It is because I am so unreasonable ... so far from sensible that things like this happen to me."