And then when he began to understand that she might die before her testimony was given before the court in her own defense, he became conscious of a vague feeling of disappointment. He knew now that he had been very anxious all along to hear what his wife would say when she stood face to face with her accuser. Perhaps, after all, she could vindicate herself. If not, why was she so anxious to make the attempt?
"Have I wronged her?" he asked himself, suddenly. "Should I have condemned her without hearing her version of that villain's story? Ah! he would not have dared deceive me!"
[CHAPTER XL.]
Suddenly a serving-man entered with a card in his hand.
"A gentleman to see you, sir," he said.
Captain Ernscliffe took the bit of pasteboard in his hand and looked at it.
He started with surprise as he did so.
"C. M. Kidder," was the name he read.
It was the famous London detective whom he had employed to hunt down Sydney's dastardly murderer.