"If the Consistory pronounce him guilty, who will believe him innocent?" came the mocking reply.
"His God—his conscience—and I," Hellayne replied quietly.
"Will that save his life—which is forfeit?" Theodora interposed.
"Where is he? Oh, where is he?"
For a moment Hellayne gave way to her emotions.
"He lies in the vaults of Castel San Angelo," Theodora replied, "awaiting his doom."
"Oh, God! Oh, God!" Hellayne moaned, covering her face with her hands and sobbing convulsively.
"His rescue—though difficult of achievement—lies with you," Theodora said, veiling her inmost feelings. She was staking all on the last throw.
"With me?" Hellayne turned to her piteously.
"I will tell you," Theodora interposed, placing her white hands on Hellayne's shoulders. "The Consistory has spoken—" she lied—"and no power on earth can save your lover from his doom save—myself!"