"I don't care for happiness that is founded on the ruin of another man," said Monteith, coldly.
"Bah! you are a fool; he is guilty."
"That," said Foster, quietly, "has yet to be proved."
She flashed a look of anger at him, then went out of the hotel door, and stepped into a hansom.
"I will see you to-morrow," she called out, "and then I can prove that what I say is true."
The cab drove off, leaving Foster and Ronald looking at one another.
"What do you think?" asked the Australian.
"I don't know what to think," said Foster: "the Marchese says he is innocent."
"All men accused of a crime say that."
"Yes; but I fancy in this case it's true."