"But he is dead."
"He is not dead, you weak-minded, silly, hysterical girl. That sort of man has as many lives as a cat. He's alive, to vindicate his reputation and to bring home the crime to the real assassin."
"But who can that be?" asked Alice, comforted by this assurance.
"I don't know," said Miss Berengaria, taking a seat at the table. "Come and pour out my coffee, and eat."
Alice dragged herself to the table and took up the silver pot. "I can't eat," she said faintly.
"Yes, you can; and, what's more, you're going to. No nonsense with me, miss. You and I have a hard task before us."
"What is that?"
Miss Berengaria laid down her knife and fork with which she was about to carve a piece of bacon. "Well, I am astonished," she said, glaring. "In my young days a girl in love would have been ashamed to make such a speech. Why, bless me! haven't we got to prove Bernard's innocence?"
"Will that bring him to life?" said Alice, bitterly.
"It would, if it were necessary; but it isn't. Bernard's in hiding."