"He wished to add something to the conversation of the week before," said Dora, reading the letter. "But, my poor Allen, this letter rather condemns than saves you. It shows conclusively that you had an appointment at the Red House at midnight. And Mr. Edermont was killed at one o'clock."
"I don't know at what hour he was killed," rejoined Allen, taking back the letter with a gloomy air. "As I told you, I was mad on that night. I lost all idea of time. Whether I was in his study at twelve or one I cannot say, but when I did enter I saw him dead."
"Allen!" Dora uttered a cry of horror. "You saw him dead?"
"He was lying on the floor near the bureau," said Scott, speaking rapidly. "I see him now in my mind's eye--a limp heap, with his white hair dappled with blood. The Zulu club, torn from the savage weapons which decorated the walls, lay near him; his pistol was on the other side. He was dead--dead! Ah God, dead!"
During this recital Dora had sunk into a chair, overcome by the vehemence of his words. Allen strode to and fro, swinging his long arms, with a look of horror on his worn, white face. He pressed his hands to his eyes, as if to shut out the scene which his too vivid fancy had painted. Half swooning, Dora uttered a sob, and the next moment Allen was on his knees beside her, covering her hands with passionate and burning kisses.
"My queen! my saint!" he said hurriedly; "and you would sacrifice yourself for me. You would marry this drunkard, this parasite, this vile reptile, to save me from danger! No, Dora. No, I have been weak and foolish, but I am not guilty--I swear that I am not guilty. You shall not shield me at the cost of your own ruin. Oh, if I could only tell you all! But I dare not, I dare not!"
Carried away by his passion, angered at the sense of his weakness, he could have kissed her feet. But Dora placed her hand on his forehead and reasoned calmly with him. He was not to be saved by giving way to such whirlwinds of passion and despair. The prospect was terrible, but they must both face it boldly. Allen was innocent. He said so, and she believed him. That was everything. If he were not guilty, they might find a way out of the trap into which he had stumbled. To do so, she must know exactly what took place on that fatal night, and to this end she addressed her frenzied lover.