"Very well," assented Shirley, "we'll wait outside, but don't keep us waiting long." And, as reluctantly she left the room with Challoner, she said in a loud whisper so that Murgatroyd could hear it: "What on earth can Miriam want to see him alone for?"
For answer, Challoner merely shook his head.
Left alone with the prosecutor, Miriam asked permission to lock the door; and although surprised at such a request, Murgatroyd went over to the door and locked it. Then, motioning politely for her to be seated, he took a chair opposite to hers and asked severely:—
"Mrs. Challoner, what do you mean by this? Do you recall the compact made nearly six years ago?"
"Yes, yes," she answered, in a manner that showed plainly her desire to conciliate him.
"Your husband went free," Murgatroyd continued, "and when we made our compact, we did not know whether he was innocent or not, whether it was within the power of the law to hold him or to free him. But I kept my part of the compact in good faith—innocent or guilty, he finally went free."
"Yes, yes, I know," she returned eagerly.
"Your part of the compact was silence,—you promised to keep silent,—and yet, twice in this building you have broken your word, and Heaven knows how many times outside," he concluded solemnly.
"Yes, yes," she answered contritely, "I know. Don't think for a moment that I have any fault to find with you, Mr. Murgatroyd. None, whatever. I have always upheld you, always believed in you, I believe in you now...."
"That's more than Shirley does," and Murgatroyd smiled grimly, "for I heard her say that she would like to lynch me—she would, if you would let her," he added lightly.