“I mean,” he said, slowly and impressively, “that I am not, myself, positive of my own innocence.”

There was half a moment of silence after that extraordinary statement, and it was Danton who spoke first.

“Do you wonder now that I asked you if I looked excited, and if you thought I could tell a connected story?”

“In the light of the statement you have just made, it seems doubtful if you can tell one,” said Nick slowly. “You tell me that there has been a murder committed, that you will be accused of the crime, that there will be circumstantial evidence which will tend to convict you of the crime, and that you are not sure that you are not guilty. Those statements are rather extraordinary, coming from a man who is supposed to be sane, Mr. Danton.”

“Well, all the same, they are God’s truths, every one of them.”

“Then suppose you tell me why you have come to me at five o’clock in the morning?” said Nick severely. “If you are not sure that you have not committed a crime—which is a statement to be taken with a large proportion of salt—you are more than half convinced that you have committed one. My business, Mr. Danton, is to catch criminals, not to protect them.”

“Well, that’s all right. That’s just what I want you to do. That’s why I came here at five o’clock in the morning.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to catch and convict the criminal. If I am guilty I want you to convict me of it, just as if I were not here to engage your services. I want you to prove who did commit the crime, and if I did it I want you to prove it to my own satisfaction, as well as to a jury of twelve men. I’ve been asleep ever since I was born, Mr. Carter, but I woke up this morning in earnest, and I’m awake now, to stay awake.

CHAPTER II.
THE QUARREL IN REGINALD DANTON’S ROOM.