“Yes,” he replied. “I thought I did. Now I am sure that I did.”
“Then—you saw—I mean—he did not chloroform you—— Ah! You were not unconscious. You saw—the things—that I have—described. You—saw—them—yourself!”
“Mercedes,” interrupted Danton, “are you mad? What do you mean, sister?”
“Wait,” said Nick sternly. “Sit over there beside your sister, Danton, and whatever is said, don’t you speak at all. Your sister saw much more than she has described, as you will presently discover. It is a fortunate thing that I overheard this conversation between you, for through its revelations we will get at the truth. Sit down, Danton, and wait.”
Then he turned to Mercedes.
“Miss Danton,” he said kindly, “you are overwrought, but you are brave, and tender, and true. You love your brother, even though now you believe him to be guilty of a horrible crime—even though you believe it on the evidence of your own senses, than which, it would seem there could be no better. But yet, there are times when our own senses deceive us most outrageously, as I shall presently prove to you. Yours have deceived you. You saw that murder committed, and you were paralyzed with terror at the spectacle. Has it occurred to you that your perceptions might have been dulled, or have become distorted by reason of the same terrors?”
She shook her head in a slow negative.
“Yet,” continued Nick, “I will presently prove to you that you know positively that your brother did not commit that act.”
“Oh, sir, if you only can. But it is impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible. Things are only improbable. This one is not even an improbability. Now, follow me closely. When we—your brother and I—entered the rose-garden an hour ago, and I was presented to you, where did you honestly think we had come from?”