"Yes, sir," was the faint reply.
"Five minutes later than the time designated by the defence as a period manifestly too late for the prisoner to have left Mrs. Clemmens' house and arrived at the Quarry Station at twenty minutes past one?"
"Yes," she repeated, below her breath.
The District Attorney surveyed her earnestly, perceiving she had not only spoken the truth, but realized all which that truth implied, and drew back a few steps muttering ironically to himself:
"Ah, Orcutt! Orcutt!"
Breathlessly she watched him, breathlessly she followed him step by step like some white and haunting spirit.
"You believe, then, this fact will cost him his life?" came from her lips at last.
"Don't ask me that, Miss Dare. You and I have no concern with the consequences of this evidence."
"No concern?" she repeated, wildly. "You and I no concern? Ah!" she went on, with heart-piercing sarcasm, "I forgot that the sentiments of the heart have no place in judicial investigation. A criminal is but lawful prey, and it is every good citizen's duty to push him to his doom. No matter if one is bound to that criminal by the dearest ties which can unite two hearts; no matter if the trust he has bestowed upon you has been absolute and unquestioning, the law does not busy itself with that. The law says if you have a word at your command which can destroy this man, give utterance to it; and the law must be obeyed."
"But, Miss Dare——" the District Attorney hastily intervened, startled by the feverish gleam of her hitherto calm eye.