After saying this the Governor's strength seemed to leave him. He dropped into a chair before the fire and gazed at the blazing paper.
Stowell's trembling hand was on the handle of the door.
"I thank you for what you've done, Sir," he said, "and wish to God the matter could end there. But it cannot .... it cannot."
He went out. The two men looked into each other's faces. A flash of understanding passed between them, and, without a word more, they stepped out of the room.
Meantime, Stowell, going down the corridor, felt a hand that had been stretched out from the drawing-room, taking hold of his arm and drawing him in. It was Fenella's. Her face was utterly broken up. Flinging her arms about him she kissed him passionately.
"Victor," she said, "do as your heart bids you. Don't think of me any longer. I am with you in life or death. If you have to go to prison I will go with you, and if...."
Unable to say more she broke away from him and hurried into an inner room.
The front door rang as Stowell pulled it after him, and when he walked down the drive with a high step his head was up and his ravished face aglow.
END OF SIXTH BOOK