"What are you going to do?" demanded Noel. The effort to control himself made his voice sound hard. Floriot shook his head miserably.
"I don't know!" he groaned. "What do you think?"
"It doesn't seem to me," retorted Noel, bitterly, "that this is exactly a time for thinking! If she should be convicted, maybe it would be better to let things take their natural course and never let Raymond know who she was. But if she is acquitted, you will have to tell him, and we will have to do what we can to—to—wipe out twenty years!"
Floriot's only reply for a moment was a dry sob. Then:
"How can I tell him—now! God!" he cried, "he will add his curses to hers! I will lose him! I——"
The sharp clang of a bell broke in. Noel started, it was the signal that the court was coming in.
"Already!" he exclaimed. "The jury didn't take long!" He hastily gripped his friend's hand as the door of the President's room opened, and pushed him toward his seat.
"Keep your heart, old man!" he added, kindly. "We'll come through all right!"
Raymond brushed against him as he walked back to his seat. His ears were singing with Helene's whispers.
"It's a good sign, isn't it?" he said in low, eager tones. Noel nodded and passed outside the railing. The crowd was swarming in from both doors, and by the time the judges had comfortably settled themselves the hall was packed once more. The jury filed slowly into the box and sat down. The usher rapped for silence. There was not a sound in the court when the President solemnly commanded: