There was an ominous silence. Jacqueline forced her eyes away from the terrible fascination of Elena's ghastly face, and said:
"I am sorry. But I can do nothing for you, Mrs. Clydesdale. The decision rests with your husband."
"You must help me!"
"I cannot."
"You must!" repeated Elena.
"How?"
"I—I don't care how you do it! But you must prevent my husband from prosecuting Mr. Waudle! It—it has got to be done—somehow."
"What do you mean?"
Elena's face was burning and her lips quivered:
"It has got to be done! I can't tell you why."