"You have seen those portraits before."
"Never!"
"Do you mean to tell me that no one, neither your counsel nor your solicitor, nor any one else showed you them?"
"I do. You appear surprised."
"It is not a question of surprise. I don't believe you."
"You can soon ascertain for yourself that what I tell you is a fact. You must remember that from the first I told my solicitor the actual facts. I took it for granted that the woman who had been found dead was Ellen Howth. Under those circumstances there was no reason why I should be shown or why I should wish to be shown her photograph. I have not seen that portrait before. The woman whose portrait it is is a complete stranger to me. Were she here she would tell you that I am equally a stranger to her. There is some mystery which, at present, I do not profess to understand. But of one thing I am certain, that the woman, Ellen Howth, whom I supposed was dead, is as much alive as you are or as I am."
"Give me those portraits. It strikes me that you are one of those men who will go even to face their God with a lie upon their lips. I don't believe a word that you have said."
"Then you wrong me cruelly. I hope, for your sake, as well as for my own, that you will learn that you do, before it is too late."
The detective made no reply. He went out of the cell without a word. The governor followed him. The door was clanged. The condemned man was left alone to get himself, if he could, into a mood in which he should be able to look the gallows squarely and without flinching in the face.
The governor spoke to the detective as they walked side by side.