melita was alone in the room with Rao-Singh.
He lay propped up with pillows, his gaunt cheek-bones very prominent and almost gray in the failing afternoon light. The truth was that he was much more nearly well than he looked. He had been walking around the ward for three days with no ill effects. But to Carmelita, who was used to seeing him in his full vigor, he seemed fearfully pale, and a pang of remorse shot through her. This was dispelled somewhat by the malicious smile upon his lips. He no longer seemed to desire her. His face expressed only a gloating revenge, a deep hostility toward her. He had permitted her to come up to him so that he might laugh at her.
"I have come to appeal to you to save my husband," she began tensely. "You know he is innocent. I will pay you anything in the world if you will drop this case."
"I have heard you say that before, my dear lady," he replied, and his voice was unpleasant and surprisingly steady. "Even if it were not too late now to drop the case and save your husband, I would not do so for all the money in the world."
Her tones became very low and trembling. "And if, to save him, I do not pay you in money—if I come to you—if—"
To Rao-Singh the moment was more deli-
