"I'll come back as soon as I can," she promised, with a little break in her voice, - "as soon as ever I can, Mr. Heepman."She hurried out of the theatre and took her place once more among the hurrying throng of pedestrians. Several people turned round to look at her. Her white face, tight-drawn mouth, and eyes almost unnaturally large, seemed to have become the abiding-place for tragedy. She herself saw no one. She would have taken a cab, but a glimpse at the contents of her purse dissuaded her. She walked steadily on to Jermyn Street, walked up the stairs to the third floor, and knocked at her brother's door. No one answered her at first. She turned the handle and entered to find the room empty.
There were sounds, however, in the further apartment, and she called out to him.
"Arthur," she cried, "are you there?"
"Who is it?" he demanded.
"It is I - Zoe!" she exclaimed.
"What do you want?"
"I want to speak to you, Arthur. I must speak to you. Please come as quickly as you can."He growled something and in a few moments he appeared. He was wearing the morning clothes in which he had attended court earlier in the day, but the change in him was perhaps all the more marked by reason of this resumption of his old attire. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes scarcely for an instant seemed to lose that feverish gleam of terror with which he had returned from Liverpool.
He knew very well what she had come about, and he began nervously to try and bully her.
"I wish you wouldn't come to these rooms, Zoe," he said. "I've told you before they're bachelors' apartments, and they don't like women about the place. What is it? What do you want?""I was brought here last time without any particular desire on my part," she answered, looking him in the face. "I've come now to ask you what accursed plot this is against Stephen Laverick? What were you doing in the court this morning, lying? What is the meaning of it, Arthur?""If you've come to talk rubbish like that," he declared roughly, "you'd better be off.""No, it is not rubbish!" she went on fearlessly. "I think I can understand what it is that has happened. They have terrified you and bribed you until you are willing to do any despicable thing - even this. Your father was good to my mother, Arthur, and Ihave tried to feel towards you as though you were indeed a relation.
But nothing of that counts. I want you to realize that I know the truth, and that I will not see an innocent man convicted while the guilty go free."He moved a step towards her. They were on opposite sides of the small round table which stood in the centre of the apartment.
"What do you mean?" he demanded hoarsely.
"Isn't it plain enough?" she exclaimed. "You came to my rooms a week or so ago, a terrified, broken-down man. If ever there was guilt in a man's face, it was in yours. You sent for Laverick. He pitied you and helped you away. At Liverpool they would not let you embark - these men. They have brought you back here. You are their tool. But you know very well, Arthur, that it was not Stephen Laverick who killed the man in Crooked Friars' Alley! You know very well that it was not Stephen Laverick!""Why the devil should I know anything about it?" he asked fiercely.
A note of passion suddenly crept into her voice. Her little white hand, with its accusing forefinger, shot out towards him.
"Because it was you, Arthur Morrison, who committed that crime," she cried, "and sooner than another man should suffer for it, I shall go to court myself and tell the truth."He was, for the moment, absolutely speechless, pale as death, with nervously twitching lips and fingers. But there was murder in his eyes.
"What do you know about this?" he muttered.
"Never mind," she answered. "I know and I guess quite enough to convince me - and I think anybody else - that you are the guilty man.
I would have helped you and shielded you, whatever it cost me, but I will not do so at Stephen Laverick's expense.""What is Laverick to you?" he growled.
"He is nothing to me," she replied, "but the best of friends. Even were he less than that, do you suppose that I would let an innocent man suffer?"He moistened his dry lips rapidly.
"You are talking nonsense, Zoe," he said, - "nonsense! Even if there has been some little mistake, what could I do now? I have given my evidence. So far as I am concerned, the case is finished.