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+
+
+E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
+available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 35205-h.htm or 35205-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35205/35205-h/35205-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35205/35205-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/whobyelizabethke00kentiala
+
+
+
+
+
+WHO?
+
+by
+
+ELIZABETH KENT
+
+Author of "The House Opposite," etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+New York and London
+The Knickerbocker Press
+1912
+
+Copyright, 1912
+By G. P. Putnam's Sons
+
+The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Here, quick, I hear footsteps on the stairs!"
+
+From the drawing by John Cassel, (Chapter XX)]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+       I. THE WOMAN IN THE COMPARTMENT
+
+      II. "MRS. PETER THOMPKINS"
+
+     III. THE TRIBULATIONS OF A LIAR
+
+      IV. ON THE SCENE OF THE TRAGEDY
+
+       V. THE DETECTIVE DETECTS
+
+      VI. THE MYSTERIOUS MAID
+
+     VII. THE INQUEST
+
+    VIII. LADY UPTON
+
+      IX. THE JEWELS
+
+       X. THE TWO FRENCHMEN
+
+      XI. THE INSPECTOR INTERVIEWS CYRIL
+
+     XII. A PERILOUS VENTURE
+
+    XIII. CAMPBELL REMONSTRATES
+
+     XIV. WHAT IS THE TRUTH?
+
+      XV. FINGER PRINTS IN THE DUST
+
+     XVI. THE STORY OF A WRONG
+
+    XVII. GUY RELENTS
+
+   XVIII. A SLIP OF THE TONGUE
+
+     XIX. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
+
+      XX. "I KNOW IT, COUSIN CYRIL"
+
+     XXI. THE TRUTH
+
+    XXII. CAMPBELL RESIGNS
+
+
+
+
+Who?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE WOMAN IN THE COMPARTMENT
+
+
+It was six o'clock on a raw October morning, and the cross Channel boat
+had just deposited its cargo of pale and dishevelled passengers at
+Newhaven. Cyril Crichton, having seen his servant place his bags in a
+first-class compartment, gazed gloomily at the scene before him.
+
+It was the first time in three years that he had set foot on his native
+shore and the occasion seemed invested with a certain solemnity.
+
+"What a mess I have made of my life! Yet God knows I meant well!" He
+muttered in his heart. "If I hadn't been such a good-natured ass, I
+should never have got into all this trouble. But I won't be made a fool
+of any longer. I will consult Campbell as to what--" He paused. It
+suddenly occurred to him that he had forgotten to let the latter know of
+his impending arrival. "I will send him a wire," he decided.
+
+The telegraph-office was farther off than he expected, and to Crichton's
+disgust, he found it shut. He had forgotten that in well-regulated
+England, even matters of life and death have to wait till the offices
+open at eight A.M.
+
+He was still staring at the closed window, when he was startled by the
+guard's whistle, and the slamming of the carriage doors. Turning
+quickly, he ran back, trying to find his compartment, but it was too
+late; the train was already moving. Flinging off a porter's detaining
+hand, he jumped on to the foot-board and wrenched open the nearest door.
+The impetus flung him headlong into the lap of a lady,--the sole
+occupant of the carriage. To his horror and amazement, instead of
+listening to his apologies, she uttered a piercing shriek and fell
+forward into his arms. For a moment Crichton was too dazed to move.
+There he knelt, tightly clasping her limp form and wondering fearfully
+what would happen next. At last he managed to pull himself together, and
+staggering to his feet, laid her gently on the seat near the window.
+Strangely enough, he had had no idea, so far, as to the appearance, or
+even the age, of the lady with whom fate had thrown him into such
+intimate contact: consequently he now looked at her with considerable
+curiosity. Her slight, graceful figure proclaimed her youth, but her
+face was completely concealed by a thick, black veil, which prevented
+him from so much as guessing the outline of her features. As she
+continued to show no sign of returning consciousness, Crichton looked
+helplessly around for some means of reviving her. More air was what she
+needed; so with much trepidation he decided to unfasten her veil. His
+fingers fumbled clumsily over their unaccustomed task, but finally the
+last knot was disentangled, the last pin extracted. The unknown proved
+to be even younger than he expected, and to possess beauty of the kind
+which admits of no discussion. At present, however, it was sadly marred
+by a red welt, probably the result of a fall, Crichton decided, which
+disfigured her left cheek. A minute before he had been cursing his luck,
+which invariably landed him in strange adventures, but at the sight of
+her beauty, our hero suddenly ceased to find the situation annoying. His
+interest, however, increased his alarm. What if she were dead or dying?
+Heart attacks were not uncommon. Bending over her, he laid his hand on
+her heart, and as he did so, the long lashes lifted, and a pair of
+sapphire blue eyes looked straight into his. Before he had time to move,
+she threw out both hands and cried: "Oh, let me go!"
+
+"Don't be alarmed. Notwithstanding my unceremonious entrance, I assure
+you, I am a perfectly respectable member of society. My name is
+Crichton."
+
+The girl staggered to her feet. "Crichton?" she gasped.
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+"Yes, Crichton. Do you know any member of my family by any chance? My
+cousin, Lord Wilmersley, has a place near here."
+
+"No," she faltered, "I--I am quite a stranger in this part of the
+country."
+
+He was sure she was lying, but what could be her object in doing so? And
+why had his name caused her such alarm? What unpleasant connection could
+she possibly have with it? The only male members of his family who bore
+it, were, a curate, serving his probation in the East End of London, and
+a boy at Eton.
+
+"That is a pity," he said. "I hoped we might find some mutual friends
+who would vouch for my inoffensiveness. I can't tell you how sorry I am
+to have given you such a fright. It was unpardonably stupid of me. The
+fact is, I am rather absent-minded, and I should have been left behind
+if I had not tumbled in on you as I did. Please forgive me."
+
+"On the contrary, it is I who should apologise to you for having made
+such a fuss about nothing. You must have thought me quite mad." She
+laughed nervously.
+
+"Madam," he replied, with mock solemnity, "I assure you I never for a
+moment doubted your sanity, and I am an expert in such matters."
+
+"Are you really?" She shrank farther from him.
+
+"Really what?" he inquired, considerably puzzled.
+
+"A--a brain specialist? That is what they are called, isn't it?"
+
+He laughed heartily.
+
+"No, indeed. But you said----"
+
+"Of course! How stupid of me!"
+
+"Why should you know that I am a soldier?"
+
+She blushed vividly. "You don't look like a civilian."
+
+"At all events I hope I don't look like the keeper of an insane asylum."
+
+"No, indeed. But you said----"
+
+"Oh, as to being an expert. Was that it? I must plead guilty to having
+attempted a feeble joke, though as a matter of fact, it so happened that
+I do know something about lunatics."
+
+"Aren't you dreadfully afraid of them?"
+
+"On general principles, of course, I am afraid of nothing, but I fancy a
+full-grown lunatic, with a carving knife and a hankering for my blood,
+would have a different tale to tell."
+
+"Oh, don't speak of them!" She covered her eyes with her hands.
+
+"I beg your pardon."
+
+"Why should you beg my pardon?" she asked looking at him suspiciously.
+
+"I really don't know," he acknowledged.
+
+"I know that I am behaving like a hysterical schoolgirl. What must you
+think of me! But,--but I am just recovering from an illness and am still
+very nervous, and the mere mention of lunatics always upsets me. I have
+the greatest horror of them."
+
+"Poor child, she must have been through some terrible experience with
+one," thought Crichton.
+
+"I trust you may never meet any," he said aloud.
+
+"I don't intend to." She spoke with unexpected vehemence.
+
+"Well, there is not much chance of your doing so. Certified lunatics
+find it pretty difficult to mingle in general society."
+
+"I know--oh, I know--" Her voice sounded almost regretful.
+
+What an extraordinary girl! Could it be--was it possible that she
+herself--but no, her behaviour was certainly strange and she seemed
+hysterical, but mad--no, and yet that would explain everything.
+
+"I am sure it was the horrid crossing which upset you--as much as
+anything else," he said.
+
+"I didn't cross, I--" She stopped abruptly, and bit her lip.
+
+It was quite obvious that for some reason or other, she had not wished
+him to know that she had got in at Newhaven. He knew that politeness
+demanded he should not pursue a subject which was evidently distasteful
+to her. But his curiosity overcame his scruples.
+
+"Really? It is rather unusual to take this train unless one is coming
+from the continent."
+
+"Yes. One has to start so frightfully early. I had to get up a little
+before five." That meant she must live in Newhaven, and not far from the
+station at that--but was it true? She had about her that indescribable
+something which only those possess whose social position has never been
+questioned. No, Newhaven did not seem the background for her. But then,
+had she not herself told him that she did not live there? She might have
+gone there on an errand of charity or--After all, what business was it
+of his? Why should he attempt to pry into her life? It was abominable.
+
+She settled herself in a corner of the carriage, and he fancied that she
+wished to avoid further conversation. Serve him jolly well right, he
+thought.
+
+During the rest of the journey his behaviour was almost ostentatiously
+discreet. If she feared that he was likely to take advantage of the
+situation, he was determined to show her that he had no intention of
+doing so. To avoid staring at her he kept his eyes fixed on the rapidly
+changing landscape; but they might have been suddenly transported to
+China without his observing the difference. In fact, he had not realised
+that they were nearing their destination, till he saw his companion
+readjust her veil. A few minutes later the train stopped at Hearne Hill.
+
+Crichton put his head out of the window.
+
+"There is something up," he said, a moment later turning to her. "There
+must be a criminal on board. There are a lot of policemen about, and
+they seem to be searching the train."
+
+"Oh, what shall I do!" she cried, starting to her feet.
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"They will shut me up. Oh, save me--save me!"
+
+For a moment he was too startled to speak.
+
+Was it possible? This girl a criminal--a thief? He couldn't believe it.
+
+"But what have you done?"
+
+"Nothing, nothing I assure you. Oh, believe me, it is all a mistake."
+
+He looked at her again. Innocent or guilty, he would stand by her.
+
+"They will be here directly," he said. "Have you enough self-control to
+remain perfectly calm and to back up any story I tell?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Sit down then, and appear to be talking to me."
+
+"Tickets, please." The guard was at the door, and behind him stood a
+police inspector.
+
+Crichton having given up his ticket, turned to the girl and said: "You
+have your ticket, Amy."
+
+She handed it over.
+
+"From Newhaven, I see." The inspector stepped forward:
+
+"I must ask the lady to lift 'er veil, please."
+
+"What do you mean, my man? Are you drunk?
+
+"Steady, sir. Do you know this lady?"
+
+"This lady happens to be my wife, so you will kindly explain your
+extraordinary behaviour."
+
+The inspector looked a little nonplussed.
+
+"Sorry to hinconvenience you, sir, but we 'ave orders to search this
+train for a young lady who got in at Newhaven. Now this is the only lady
+on board whose ticket was not taken in Paris. So you see we have got to
+make sure that this is not the person we want."
+
+"But, man alive, I tell you this lady is my wife."
+
+"So you say, sir, but you can't prove it, can you, now? You're
+registered through from Paris, and this lady gets in at Newhaven. How do
+you explain that?"
+
+"Of course, one doesn't travel about with one's marriage
+certificate--but as it happens, I can prove that this lady is my wife.
+Here is my passport; kindly examine it. Mrs. Crichton returned to
+England several months ago, and went down to Newhaven last night so as
+to be able to meet me this morning. As to lifting her veil, of course
+she has no objection to doing so. I thought it idle curiosity on your
+part, but as it is a question of duty, that alters the case completely."
+
+"Thank you, sir." The inspector opened the passport and read aloud.
+"Cyril Crichton--Lieutenant in the--Rifles, age 27 years, height 6 ft.,
+1 inch, weight 12 stone. Hair--fair; complexion--fair, inclined to be
+ruddy. Eyes--blue. Nose--straight, rather short. Mouth--large.
+Distinguishing marks: cleft in chin." And as he read each item, he
+paused to compare the written description with the original.
+
+"Well, that's all right," he said. "And now for the lady's. Will you
+kindly lift your veil, m'm?"
+
+To Crichton's surprise, the girl did so quite calmly, and her face,
+although deadly pale, was perfectly composed.
+
+The inspector read: "Amy Crichton, wife of Cyril Crichton, age--26
+years--H'm that seems a bit old for the lady."
+
+The girl blushed vividly, but to Crichton's infinite relief she smiled
+gaily, and with a slight bow to the inspector said: "You flatter me."
+
+Crichton breathed more freely. Her manner had done more to relieve the
+situation than anything he had said. The inspector continued in quite a
+different tone.
+
+"'Height--5 ft., 4 inches.' You look a bit shorter than that."
+
+"Measure me, if you doubt it." She challenged him.
+
+"Oh, well, I am sure it is all right. 'Weight--9 stone, 4 lbs.'" He
+paused again, but this time made no comment, although Crichton felt sure
+that his companion weighed at least ten pounds less than the amount
+mentioned. "Hair--black. Complexion--fair. Eyes--blue. Nose--straight.
+Mouth--small. Oval chin. Distinguishing marks--none. All right, m'm!
+Sorry to 'ave disturbed you, but you understand we 'ave got to be very
+careful. We'd never 'ear the last of it if we let the party we're after
+slip through our fingers."
+
+"What is the woman you are looking for accused of?" asked Crichton.
+
+"Murder," replied the inspector, as he closed the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+"MRS. PETER THOMPKINS"
+
+
+"Murder!"
+
+Crichton looked at the girl. Her eyes were closed and she lay back
+breathing heavily. He did not know if she had even heard the accusation.
+Luckily the train was already moving. In a few minutes, however, they
+would be in London and then what should he do with her? Now that he had
+declared her to be his wife, it would arouse the suspicion of the police
+if he parted from her at the station. Besides, he could not desert the
+poor child in her terrible predicament. For she was innocent, he was
+sure of that. But here he was wasting precious time worrying about the
+future, when he ought to be doing something to revive her. It was simply
+imperative that she should be able to leave the train without exciting
+remark, as, once outside the station, the immediate danger would be
+over. His ministrations, however, were quite ineffectual, and, to his
+dismay, the train came to a standstill before she showed a sign of
+returning consciousness.
+
+A porter opened the door.
+
+"Bring a glass of water; the lady has fainted," he ordered. The porter
+returned in a few minutes followed by the police inspector. Crichton's
+heart sank. He fancied the latter eyed them with reawakened suspicion.
+As he knelt by the girl's side, her head on his shoulder, his arms
+around her, he suddenly became aware that a number of people had
+collected near the door and were watching the scene with unconcealed
+interest And among them stood Peter, his valet, staring at him with
+open-mouthed amazement.
+
+Damn! He had completely forgotten him. If he didn't look out, the fellow
+would be sure to give the situation away.
+
+"Peter," he called.
+
+Peter elbowed his way through the crowd.
+
+"Your mistress has fainted. Get my flask." Crichton spoke slowly and
+distinctly and looked Peter commandingly in the eye. Would he
+understand? Would he hold his tongue? Crichton watched him breathlessly.
+For a moment Peter blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Then the surprise
+slowly faded from his face, leaving it as stolid as usual.
+
+"Very well, sir," was all he said as he went off automatically to do his
+master's bidding. An order has a wonderfully steadying effect on a
+well-trained servant.
+
+The brandy having been brought, Crichton tried to force a few drops of
+it between the girl's clenched teeth. After a few minutes, however, he
+had to abandon the attempt.
+
+The situation was desperate.
+
+The inspector stepped forward.
+
+"Don't you think, sir, you ought to send for a doctor? The lady looks
+bad and she can't stay here, you know. The train has to be backed out in
+a few minutes. We'll carry her to the waiting-room if you wish, or come
+to think of it, hadn't you better call an ambulance? Then you could take
+the lady home and the doctor who comes with them things would know what
+to do for her."
+
+Crichton almost gasped with relief.
+
+"An ambulance! The very thing. Get one immediately!"
+
+The last passenger was just leaving the station when the ambulance
+clattered up.
+
+The doctor, although hardly more than a boy, seemed to know his
+business, and after examining the girl and asking a few questions, he
+proceeded to administer various remedies, which he took out of a bag he
+carried.
+
+"I am afraid this case is too serious for me," he said at last.
+
+"What is the trouble?"
+
+"Of course, I can't speak with any certainty, but from what you tell me,
+I think the lady is in for an attack of brain fever."
+
+Crichton felt _his_ brain reel.
+
+"What shall I do?"
+
+"We will take her home and in the meantime telephone to whatever doctor
+you wish to have called, so that he can see the patient as soon as
+possible."
+
+"I have no house in town. I was going into lodgings but I can't take an
+invalid there."
+
+"Of course not! What do you say to taking her at once to a nursing
+home?"
+
+"Yes, that would be best. Which one would you recommend? I am ignorant
+of such matters."
+
+"Well--Dr. Stuart-Smith has one not far from here. You know him by
+reputation, don't you?"
+
+"Certainly. All right, take her there."
+
+"I had better telephone and prepare them for our arrival. What is the
+lady's name, please?"
+
+The inspector's eyes were upon him; Peter was at his elbow. Well--there
+was no help for it.
+
+"Mrs. Cyril Crichton," he said.
+
+The doctor returned in a few minutes.
+
+"It is all right. They have got a room and Doctor Smith will be there
+almost as soon as we are."
+
+Having lifted her into the ambulance, the doctor turned to Cyril and
+said: "I suppose you prefer to accompany Mrs. Crichton. You can get in,
+in front."
+
+Crichton meekly obeyed.
+
+"Take my things to the lodgings and wait for me there, and by the way,
+be sure to telephone at once to Mr. Campbell and tell him I must see him
+immediately," he called to Peter as they drove off.
+
+They had apparently got rid of the police--that was something at all
+events. His own position, however, caused him the gravest concern. It
+was not only compromising but supremely ridiculous. He must extricate
+himself from it at once. His only chance, he decided, lay in confiding
+the truth to Dr. Smith. Great physicians have necessarily an enormous
+knowledge of life and therefore he would be better able than any other
+man to understand the situation and advise him as to what should be
+done. At all events the etiquette of his calling would prevent a doctor
+from divulging a professional secret, even in the case of his failing to
+sympathise with his, Cyril's, knight-errantry. Crichton heaved a sigh of
+satisfaction. His troubles, he foresaw, would soon be over.
+
+The ambulance stopped. The girl was carried into the house and taken
+possession of by an efficient-looking nurse, and Cyril was requested to
+wait in the reception-room while she was being put to bed. Dr. Smith, he
+was told, would communicate with him as soon as he had examined the
+patient.
+
+Crichton paced the room in feverish impatience. His doubts revived. What
+if the doctor should refuse to keep her? Again and again he rehearsed
+what he intended to say to him, but the oftener he did so, the more
+incredible did his story appear. It also occurred to him that a
+physician might not feel himself bound to secrecy when it was a question
+of concealing facts other than those relating to a patient's physical
+condition. What if the doctor should consider it his duty to inform the
+police of her whereabouts?
+
+At last the door opened. Dr. Smith proved to be a short, grey-haired man
+with piercing, black eyes under beetling, black brows, large nose, and a
+long upper lip. Cyril's heart sank. The doctor did not look as if he
+would be likely to sympathise with his adventure.
+
+"Mr. Crichton, I believe." The little man spoke quite fiercely and
+regarded our friend with evident disfavour.
+
+Crichton was for a moment nonplussed. What had he done to be addressed
+in such a fashion?
+
+"I hope you can give me good news of the patient?" he said, disregarding
+the other's manner.
+
+"No," snapped out the doctor. "Mrs. Crichton is very seriously, not to
+say dangerously, ill."
+
+What an extraordinary way of announcing a wife's illness to a supposed
+husband! Was every one mad to-day?
+
+"I am awfully sorry--" began Crichton.
+
+"Oh, you are, are you?" interrupted the doctor, and this time there
+could be no doubt he was intentionally insulting. "Will you then be kind
+enough to explain how your wife happens to be in the condition she is?"
+
+"What condition?" faltered Cyril.
+
+"Tut, man, don't pretend to be ignorant. Remember I am a doctor and can
+testify to the facts; yes, facts," he almost shouted.
+
+Poor Crichton sat down abruptly. He really felt he could bear no more.
+
+"For God's sake, doctor, tell me what is the matter with her. I swear I
+haven't the faintest idea."
+
+His distress was so evidently genuine that the doctor relaxed a little
+and looked at him searchingly for a moment.
+
+"Your wife has been recently flogged!"
+
+"Flogged! How awful! But I can't believe it."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Certainly not. You must be mistaken. The bruises may be the result of a
+fall."
+
+"They are not," snapped the doctor.
+
+"Flogged! here in England, in the twentieth century! But who could have
+done such a thing?"
+
+"That is for you to explain, and I must warn you that unless your
+explanation is unexpectedly satisfactory, I shall at once notify the
+police."
+
+Police! Crichton wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead.
+
+"But, doctor, I know no more about it than you do."
+
+"So you think that it will be sufficient for you to deny all knowledge
+as to how, where, and by whom a woman who is your wife--yes, sir--your
+wife, has been maltreated? Man, do you take me for a fool?"
+
+What should he do? Was this the moment to tell him the truth? No, it
+would be useless. The doctor, believing him to be a brute, was not in a
+frame of mind to attach credence to his story. The truth was too
+improbable, a convincing lie could alone save the situation.
+
+"My wife and I have not been living together lately," he stammered.
+
+"Indeed!" The piercing eyes seemed to grow more piercing, the long upper
+lip to become longer.
+
+"Yes," Crichton hesitated--it is so difficult to invent a plausible
+story on the spur of the moment. "In fact, I met her quite unexpectedly
+in Newhaven."
+
+"In Newhaven?"
+
+"Yes. I have just arrived from France," continued Crichton more
+fluently. An idea was shaping itself in his mind. "I was most astonished
+to meet my wife in England as I had been looking for her in Paris for
+the last week."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"My wife is unfortunately mentally unbalanced. For the last few months
+she has been confined in an asylum." Crichton spoke with increasing
+assurance.
+
+"Where was this asylum?"
+
+"In France."
+
+"Yes, but where? France is a big place."
+
+"It is called Charleroi and is about thirty miles from Paris in the
+direction of Fontainebleau."
+
+"Who is the director of this institution?"
+
+"Dr. Leon Monet."
+
+"And you suggest that it was there that she was ill-treated. Let me tell
+you----"
+
+Cyril interrupted him.
+
+"I suggest no such thing. My wife escaped from Charleroi over a week
+ago. We know she went to Paris, but there we lost all trace of her.
+Imagine my astonishment at finding her on the train this morning. How
+she got there, I can't think. She seemed very much agitated, but I
+attributed that to my presence. I have lately had a most unfortunate
+effect upon her. I did ask her how she got the bruise on her cheek, but
+she wouldn't tell me. I had no idea she was suffering. If I had been
+guilty of the condition she is in, is it likely that I should have
+brought her to a man of your reputation and character? I think that
+alone proves my innocence."
+
+The doctor stared at him fixedly for a few moments as if weighing the
+credibility of his explanation.
+
+"You say that the physician under whose care your wife has been is
+called Monet?"
+
+"Yes, Leon Monet."
+
+The doctor left the room abruptly. When he returned, his bearing had
+completely changed.
+
+"I have just verified your statement in a French medical directory and I
+must apologise to you for having jumped at conclusions in the way I did.
+Pray, forgive me----"
+
+Crichton bowed rather distantly. He didn't feel over-kindly to the man
+who had forced him into such a quagmire of lies.
+
+"Now as to--" Cyril hesitated a moment; he detested calling the girl by
+his name. "Now--as to--to--the patient. Have you any idea when she is
+likely to recover consciousness?"
+
+"Not the faintest. Of course, what you tell me of her mental condition
+increases the seriousness of the case. With hysterical cases anything
+and everything is possible."
+
+"But you do not fear the--worst."
+
+"Certainly not. She is young. She will receive the best of care. I see
+no reason why she should not recover. Now if you would like to remain
+near her----"
+
+There seemed a conspiracy to keep him forever at the girl's side, but
+this time he meant to break away even if he had to fight for it.
+
+"I shall, of course, remain near her," Cyril interrupted hastily. "I
+have taken lodgings in Half Moon Street and shall stay there till she
+has completely recovered. As she has lately shown the most violent
+dislike of me, I think I had better not attempt to see her for the
+present. Don't you agree with me?"
+
+"Certainly. I should not permit it under the circumstances."
+
+"I shall call daily to find out how she is, and if there is any change
+in her condition, you will, of course, notify me at once." Crichton took
+out a card and scribbled his address on it. "This will always find me.
+And now I have a rather delicate request to make. Would you mind not
+letting any one know the identity of your patient? You see I have every
+hope that she will eventually recover her reason and therefore I wish
+her malady to be kept a secret. I have told my friends that my wife is
+in the south of France undergoing a species of rest cure."
+
+"I think you are very wise. I shall not mention her name to any one."
+
+"But the nurses?"
+
+"It is a rule of all nursing homes that a patient's name is never to be
+mentioned to an outsider. But if you wish to take extra precautions, you
+might give her another name while she is here and they need never know
+that it is not her own."
+
+"Thank you. That is just what I should wish."
+
+"What do you think Mrs. Crichton had better be called?"
+
+Cyril thought a moment.
+
+"Mrs. Peter Thompkins, and I will become Mr. Thompkins. Please address
+all communications to me under that name; otherwise the truth is sure to
+leak out."
+
+"But how will you arrange to get your mail?"
+
+"Peter Thompkins is my valet, so that is quite simple."
+
+"Very well. Good-bye, Mr. Thompkins. I trust I shall soon have a better
+report to give you of Mrs. Thompkins."
+
+A moment later Cyril was in a taxi speeding towards Mayfair, a free
+man--for the moment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE TRIBULATIONS OF A LIAR
+
+
+While Crichton was dressing he glanced from time to time at his valet.
+Peter had evidently been deeply shocked by the incident at the railway
+station, for the blunt profile, so persistently presented to him, was
+austerely remote as well as subtly disapproving. Cyril was fond of the
+old man, who had been his father's servant and had known him almost from
+his infancy. He felt that he owed him some explanation, particularly as
+he had without consulting him made use of his name.
+
+But what should he say to him? Never before had he so fully realised the
+joy, the comfort, the dignity of truth. It was not a virtue he decided;
+it was a privilege. If he ever got out of the hole he was in, he meant
+to wallow in it for the future. That happy time seemed, however, still
+far distant.
+
+Believing the girl to be innocent, he wanted as few people as possible
+to know the nature of the cloud which hung over her. Peter's loyalty, he
+knew, he could count on, that had been often and fully proved; but his
+discretion was another matter. Peter was no actor. If he had anything to
+conceal, even his silence became so portentous of mystery that it could
+not fail to arouse the curiosity of the most unsuspicious. No, he must
+think of some simple story which would satisfy Peter as to the propriety
+of his conduct and yet which, if it leaked out, would not be to the
+girl's discredit.
+
+"You must have been surprised to hear me give my name to the young lady
+you saw at the station," he began tentatively.
+
+"Yes, sir." Peter's expression relaxed.
+
+"Her story is a very sad one." So much at any rate must be true, thought
+poor Cyril with some satisfaction.
+
+"Yes, sir." Peter was waiting breathlessly for the sequel.
+
+"I don't feel at liberty to repeat what she told me. You understand
+that, don't you?"
+
+"Certainly, sir," agreed Peter, but his face fell.
+
+"So all I can tell you is that she was escaping from a brute who
+horribly ill-treated her. Of course I offered to help her."
+
+"Of course," echoed Peter.
+
+"Unfortunately she was taken ill before she had told me her name or who
+the friends were with whom she was seeking refuge. What was I to do? If
+the police heard that a young girl had been found unconscious on the
+train, the fact would have been advertised far and wide so as to enable
+them to establish her identity, in which case the person from whom she
+was hiding would have taken possession of her, which he has a legal
+right to do--so she gave me to understand." Crichton paused quite out of
+breath. He was doing beautifully. Peter was swallowing his tale
+unquestionably--and really, you know, for an inexperienced liar that was
+a reasonably probable story. "So you see," he continued, "it was
+necessary for her to have a name and mine was the only one which would
+not provoke further inquiry."
+
+"Begging your pardon, sir, but I should 'ave thought that Smith or Jones
+would 'ave done just as well."
+
+"Certainly not. The authorities would have wanted further particulars
+and would at once have detected the fraud. No one will ever know that I
+lent an unfortunate woman for a few hours the protection of my name, and
+there is no one who has the right to object to my having done so--except
+the young lady herself."
+
+"Yes, sir, quite so."
+
+"On the other hand, on account of the position I am in at present, it is
+most important that I should do nothing which could by any possibility
+be misconstrued."
+
+"Yes, sir, certainly, sir."
+
+"And so I told the doctor that the young lady had better not be called
+by my name while she is at the home and so--and so--well--in fact--I
+gave her yours. I hope you don't mind?"
+
+"My name?" gasped Peter in a horrified voice.
+
+"Yes, you see you haven't got a wife, have you?"
+
+"Certainly not, sir!"
+
+"So there couldn't be any possible complications in your case."
+
+"One never can tell, sir--a name's a name and females are sometimes not
+over-particular."
+
+"Don't be an ass! Why, you ought to feel proud to be able to be of use
+to a charming lady. Where's your chivalry, Peter?"
+
+"I don't know, sir, but I do 'ope she's respectable," he answered
+miserably.
+
+"Of course she is. Don't you know a lady when you see one?"
+
+Peter shook his head tragically.
+
+"I'm sorry you feel like that about it," said Crichton. "It never
+occurred to me you would mind, and I haven't yet told you all. I not
+only gave the young lady your name but took it myself."
+
+"Took my name!"
+
+"Yes. At the nursing home I am known as Mr. Peter Thompkins. Pray that I
+don't disgrace you, Peter."
+
+"Oh, sir, a false name! If you get found out, they'll never believe you
+are hinnocent when you've done a thing like that. Of course, a gentleman
+like you hought to know his own business best, but it do seem to me most
+awful risky."
+
+"Well, it's a risk that had to be taken. It was a choice of evils, I
+grant you. Hah! I sniff breakfast; the bacon and eggs of my country
+await me. I am famishing, and I say, Peter, do try to take a more
+cheerful view of this business."
+
+"I'll try, sir."
+
+Crichton was still at breakfast when a short, red-haired young man
+fairly burst into the room.
+
+"Guy Campbell!" exclaimed Cyril joyfully.
+
+"Hullo, old chap, glad to see you," cried the newcomer, pounding Cyril
+affectionately on the back. "How goes it? I say, your telephone message
+gave me quite a turn. What's up? Have you got into a scrape? You look as
+calm as possible."
+
+"If I look calm, my looks belie me. I assure you I never felt less calm
+in my life."
+
+"What on earth is the matter?"
+
+"You won't have some breakfast?"
+
+"Breakfast at half-past eleven! No thank you."
+
+"Well, then, take a cigarette, pull up that chair to the fire, and
+listen--and don't play the fool; this is serious."
+
+"Fire away."
+
+"I want your legal advice, Guy, though I suppose you'll tell me I need a
+solicitor, not a barrister. I wish to get a divorce."
+
+"A divorce? Why, Cyril, I am awfully sorry. I had heard that your
+marriage hadn't turned out any too well, but I had no idea it was as bad
+as that. You have proof, I suppose."
+
+"Ample."
+
+"Tell me the particulars. I never have heard anything against your
+wife's character."
+
+"You mean that you have never heard that she was unfaithful to me. Bah,
+it makes me sick the way people talk, as if infidelity were the only
+vice that damned a woman's character. Guy, her character was rotten
+through and through. Her infidelity was simply a minor, though
+culminating, expression of it."
+
+"But how did you come to marry such a person?"
+
+"You know she was the Chalmerses' governess?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I had been spending a few weeks with them. Jack, the oldest son, was a
+friend of mine and she was the daughter of a brother officer of old
+Chalmers's who had died in India, and consequently her position in the
+household was different from that of an ordinary governess. I soon got
+quite friendly with Amy and her two charges, and we used to rag about
+together a good deal. I liked her, but upon my honour I hadn't a thought
+of making love to her. Then one day there was an awful row. They accused
+her of carrying on a clandestine love affair with Freddy, the second
+son, and with drinking on the sly. They had found empty bottles hidden
+in her bedroom. She posed as injured innocence--the victim of a vile
+plot to get her out of the house--had no money, no friends, no hope of
+another situation. I was young; she was pretty. I was dreadfully sorry
+for her and so--well, I married her. As the regiment had just been
+ordered to South Africa, we went there immediately. We had not been
+married a year, however, when I discovered that she was a confirmed
+drunkard. I think only the fear of losing her position had kept her
+within certain bounds. That necessity removed, she seemed unable to put
+any restraint on herself. I doubt if she even tried to do so."
+
+"Poor Cyril!"
+
+"Later on I found out that she was taking drugs as well as stimulants.
+She would drink herself into a frenzy and then stupefy herself with
+opiates. But it is not only weakness I am accusing her of. She was
+inherently deceitful and cruel--ah, what is the use of talking about it!
+I have been through Hell."
+
+"You haven't been living together lately, have you?"
+
+"Well, you see, she was disgracing not only herself but the regiment,
+and so it became a question of either leaving the army or getting her to
+live somewhere else. So I brought her back to Europe, took a small villa
+near Pau, and engaged an efficient nurse-companion to look after her. I
+spent my leave with her, but that was all. Last spring, however, she got
+so bad that her companion cabled for me. For a few weeks she was
+desperately ill, and when she partially recovered, the doctor persuaded
+me to send her to a sanitarium for treatment. Charleroi was recommended
+to me. It was chiefly celebrated as a lunatic asylum, but it has an
+annex where dipsomaniacs and drug fiends are cared for. At first, the
+doctor's reports were very discouraging, but lately her improvement is
+said to have been quite astonishing, so much so that it was decided that
+I should take her away for a little trip. I was on my way to Charleroi,
+when the news reached me that Amy had escaped. We soon discovered that
+she had fled with a M. de Brissac, who had been discharged as cured the
+day before my wife's disappearance. We traced them to within a few miles
+of Paris, but there lost track of them. I have, however, engaged a
+detective to furnish me with further particulars. I fancy the Frenchman
+is keeping out of the way for fear I shall kill him. Bah! Why, I pity
+him, that is all! He'll soon find out what that woman is like. He has
+given me freedom! Oh, you can't realise what that means to me. I only
+wish my father were alive to know that I have this chance of beginning
+life over again."
+
+"I was so sorry to hear of his death. He was always so kind to us boys
+when we stayed at Lingwood. I wrote you when I heard the sad news, but
+you never answered any of my letters."
+
+"I know, old chap, but you must forgive me. I have been too
+miserable--too ashamed. I only wanted to creep away and to be
+forgotten."
+
+"Your father died in Paris, didn't he?"
+
+"Yes, luckily I was with him. It was just after I had taken Amy to
+Charleroi. He was a broken-hearted man. He never got over the mess I had
+made of my life and Wilmersley's marriage was the last straw. He brooded
+over it continually."
+
+"Why had your father been so sure that Lord Wilmersley would never
+marry? He was an old bachelor, but not so very old after all. He can't
+be more than fifty now."
+
+"Well, you see, Wilmersley has a bee in his bonnet. His mother was a
+Spanish ballet dancer whom my uncle married when he was a mere boy. She
+was a dreadful old creature. I remember her distinctly, a great, fat
+woman with a big, white face and enormous, glassy, black eyes. I was
+awfully afraid of her. She died when Wilmersley was about twenty and my
+uncle followed her a few months later. His funeral was hardly over when
+my cousin left Geralton and nothing definite was heard of him for almost
+twenty-five years. He was supposed to be travelling in the far East, and
+from time to time some pretty queer rumours drifted back about him.
+Whether they were true or not, I have never known. One day he returned
+to Geralton as unexpectedly as he had left it. He sent for me at once.
+He has immense family pride--the ballet dancer, I fancy, rankles--and
+having decided for some reason or other not to marry, he wished his heir
+to cut a dash. He offered me an allowance of L4000 a year, told me to
+marry as soon as possible, and sent me home."
+
+"Well, that was pretty decent of him. You don't seem very grateful."
+
+"I can't bear him. He's a most repulsive-looking chap, a thorough
+Spaniard, with no trace of his father's blood that I can see. And as I
+married soon afterwards and my marriage was not to his liking, he
+stopped my allowance and swore I should never succeed him if he could
+help it. So you see I haven't much reason to be grateful to him."
+
+"Beastly shame! He married Miss Mannering, Lady Upton's granddaughter,
+didn't he?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She is a little queer, I believe."
+
+"Really? I didn't know that. I have never seen her, but I hear she is
+very pretty. Well, I'm sorry for her, brought up by that old curmudgeon
+of a grandmother and married out of the schoolroom to Wilmersley. She
+has never had much of a chance, has she?"
+
+"There are no children as yet?"
+
+"No."
+
+"So that now that your father is dead, you are the immediate heir."
+
+The door was flung open and Peter rushed into the room brandishing a
+paper.
+
+"Oh, sir, it's come at last! I always felt it would!" He stuttered with
+excitement.
+
+"What on earth is the matter with you?"
+
+"I beg pardon, sir, but I am that hovercome! I heard them crying
+'hextras,' so I went out and gets one--just casual-like. Little did I
+think what would be in it--and there it was."
+
+"There was what?" Both men spoke at once, leaning eagerly forward.
+
+"That Lord Wilmersley is dead; and so, my lord, I wish you much joy and
+a long life."
+
+"This is very sudden," gasped Crichton. "I hadn't heard he was ill. What
+did he die of?"
+
+"'E was murdered, my lord."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+ON THE SCENE OF THE TRAGEDY
+
+
+"When, how, who did it?" cried Cyril incoherently. "Give me the paper."
+
+"Murder of Lord Wilmersley--disappearance of Lady Wilmersley," he read.
+"Disappearance of Lady Wilmersley," he repeated, as the paper fell from
+his limp hand.
+
+"Here, get your master some whiskey; the shock has been too much for
+him," said Camp bell. "Mysterious disappearance of Lady Wilmersley,"
+murmured Crichton, staring blankly in front of him.
+
+"Here, drink this, old man; you'll be all right in a moment," said
+Campbell, pressing a glass into his hand.
+
+Cyril emptied it automatically.
+
+"The deuce take it!" he cried, covering his face with his hands.
+
+"Shall I read you the particulars?" Campbell asked, taking the paper.
+Cyril nodded assent.
+
+"'The body of Lord Wilmersley was found at seven o'clock this morning
+floating in the swimming bath at Geralton. It was at first thought that
+death had been caused by drowning, but on examination, a bullet wound
+was discovered over the heart. Search for the pistol with which the
+crime was committed has so far proved fruitless. The corpse was dressed
+in a long, Eastern garment frequently worn by the deceased. Lady
+Wilmersley's bedroom, which adjoins the swimming bath, was empty. The
+bed had not been slept in. A hurried search of the castle and grounds
+was at once made, but no trace of her ladyship has been discovered. It
+is feared that she also has been murdered and her body thrown into the
+lake, which is only a short distance from the castle. None of her
+wearing apparel is missing, even the dress and slippers she wore on the
+previous evening were found in a corner of her room. Robbery was
+probably the motive of the crime, as a small safe, which stands next to
+Lady Wilmersley's bed and contained her jewels, has been rifled. Whoever
+did this must, however, have known the combination, as the lock has not
+been tampered with. This adds to the mystery of the case. Lady
+Wilmersley is said to be mentally unbalanced. Arthur Edward Crichton,
+9th Baron Wilmersley, was born--' here follows a history of your family,
+Cyril, you don't want to hear that. Well, what do you think of it?"
+asked Campbell.
+
+"It's too horrible! I can't think," said Crichton.
+
+"I don't believe Lady Wilmersley was murdered," said Campbell. "Why
+should a murderer have troubled to remove one body and not the other?
+Mark my words, it was his wife who killed Wilmersley and opened the
+safe."
+
+"I don't believe it! I won't believe it!" cried Cyril. "Besides, how
+could she have got away without a dress or hat? Remember they make a
+point of the fact that none of her clothes are missing."
+
+"In the first place, you can't believe everything you read in a
+newspaper; but even granting the correctness of that statement, what was
+there to prevent her having borrowed a dress from one of her maids? She
+must have had one, you know."
+
+"No--no! It can't be, I tell you; I--" Cyril stopped abruptly.
+
+"What's the matter with you? You look as guilty as though you had killed
+him yourself. I can't for the life of me see why you take the thing so
+terribly to heart. You didn't like your cousin and from what you
+yourself tell me, I fancy he is no great loss to any one, and you don't
+know his wife--widow, I mean."
+
+"It is such a shock," stammered Cyril.
+
+"Of course it's a shock, but you ought to think of your new duties. You
+will have to go to Geralton at once?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose it will be expected of me," Cyril assented gloomily.
+"Peter, pack my things and find out when the next train leaves."
+
+"Very well, my lord."
+
+"And Guy, you will come with me, won't you? I really can't face this
+business alone. Besides, your legal knowledge may come in useful."
+
+"I am awfully sorry, but I really can't come to-day. I've got to be in
+court this afternoon; but I'll come as soon as I can, if you really want
+me."
+
+"Do!"
+
+"Of course I want to be of use if I can, but a detective is really what
+you need."
+
+"A detective?" gasped Cyril.
+
+"Well, why not? Don't look as if I had suggested your hiring a camel!"
+
+"Yes, of course not--I mean a detective is--would be--in fact--very
+useful," stammered Cyril. Why couldn't Guy mind his own business?
+
+"Why not get one and take him down with you?" persisted Campbell.
+
+"Oh, no!" Cyril hurriedly objected, "I don't think I had better do that.
+They may have one already. Shouldn't like to begin by hurting local
+feeling and--and all that, you know."
+
+"Rot!"
+
+"At any rate, I'm not going to engage any one till I've looked into the
+matter myself," said Cyril. "If I find I need a man, I'll wire."
+
+Campbell, grumbling about unnecessary delay, let the matter drop.
+
+Two hours later Cyril was speeding towards Newhaven.
+
+Huddled in a corner of the railway carriage, he gave himself up to the
+gloomiest reflections. Was ever any one pursued by such persistent
+ill-luck? It seemed too hard that just as he began to see an end to his
+matrimonial troubles, he should have tumbled headlong into this terrible
+predicament. From the moment he heard of Lady Wilmersley's disappearance
+he had never had the shadow of a doubt but that it was she he had
+rescued that morning from the police. What was he going to do, now that
+he knew her identity? He must decide on a course of action at once. Wash
+his hands of her? No-o. He felt he couldn't do that--at least, not yet.
+But unless he immediately and voluntarily confessed the truth, who would
+believe him if it ever came to light? If it were discovered that he, the
+heir, had helped his cousin's murderess to escape--had posed as her
+husband, would any one, would any jury believe that chance alone had
+thrown them together? He might prove an alibi, but that would only save
+his life--not his honour. He would always be suspected of having
+instigated, if not actually committed, the murder.
+
+If, however, by some miracle the truth did not leak out, what then? It
+would mean that from this day forward he would live in constant fear of
+detection. The very fact of her secret existence must necessarily poison
+his whole life. Lies, lies, lies would be his future portion. Was he
+willing to assume such a burden? Was it his duty to take upon himself
+the charge of a woman who was after all but a homicidal maniac? But was
+she a maniac? Again and again he went over each incident of their
+meeting, weighed her every word and action, and again he found it
+impossible to believe that her mind was unbalanced. Yet if she was not
+insane, what excuse could he find to explain her crime? Provocation?
+Yes, she had had that. She had been beaten, flogged. But even so, to
+kill! He had once been present when a murderer was sentenced: "To hang
+by the neck until you are dead," the words rang in his ears. That small
+white neck--no--never. Suddenly he realised that his path was
+irrevocably chosen. As long as she needed him, he would protect her to
+the uttermost of his ability. Even if his efforts proved futile, even if
+he ruined his life without saving hers, he felt he would never regret
+his decision.
+
+"Newhaven."
+
+It seemed centuries since he had left it that morning. Hiring a fly, he
+drove out to Geralton, a distance of nine miles. There the door was
+opened by the same butler who had admitted him five years previously.
+"It's Mr. Cyril!" he cried, falling back a step. "Why, sir, they all
+told us as 'ow you were in South Africa. But I bid you welcome, sir."
+
+"Thank you. I am glad to see you again."
+
+"Thank you, sir,--my lord, I mean, and please forgive your being
+received like this--but every one is so upset, there's no doing nothing
+with nobody. If you will step in 'ere, I'll call Mrs. Eversley, the
+'ousekeeper."
+
+"Is Mrs. Eversley still here? I remember her perfectly. She used to
+stuff me with doughnuts when I came here as a boy. Tell her I will see
+her presently."
+
+"Very good, my lord."
+
+"Now I want to hear all the particulars of the tragedy. The newspaper
+account was very meagre."
+
+"Quite so, my lord," assented the butler.
+
+"Lady Wilmersley has not been found?" asked Cyril.
+
+"No, my lord. We've searched for her ladyship 'igh and low. Not a trace
+of her. And now every one says as 'ow she did it. But I'll never believe
+it--never. A gentle little lady, she was, and so easily frightened! Why,
+if my lord so much as looked at her sometimes, she'd fall a trembling,
+and 'e always so kind and devoted to 'er. 'E just doted on 'er, 'e did.
+I never saw nothing like it."
+
+"If you don't believe her ladyship guilty, is there any one else you do
+suspect?"
+
+"No, my lord, I can't say as I do." He spoke regretfully. "It was a
+burglar, I believe. I think the detective----"
+
+"What detective?" interrupted Cyril.
+
+"His name is Judson; 'e comes from London and they say as 'e can find a
+murderer just by looking at the chair 'e sat in."
+
+"Who sent for him? The police?"
+
+"No, it was Mr. Twombley of Crofton. He said we owed it to 'er ladyship
+to hemploy the best talent."
+
+"Where is the detective now?"
+
+"'E's in the long drawing-room with Mr. Twombley."
+
+"Has the inquest been held?"
+
+"No, the corpse won't be sat on till to-morrow morning."
+
+"Show me the way to the drawing-room. I don't quite remember it."
+
+The butler preceded him across the hall and throwing open a door
+announced in a loud voice:
+
+"Lord Wilmersley."
+
+The effect was electrical. Four men who had been deep in conversation
+turned and stared open-mouthed at Cyril, and one of them, a short fat
+man in clerical dress, dropped his teacup in his agitation.
+
+"Who?" bellowed a tall, florid old gentleman.
+
+The butler, secretly delighted at having produced such a sensation,
+closed the door discreetly after him.
+
+"I don't wonder you are surprised to see me. You thought I was with my
+regiment."
+
+"So you're the little shaver I knew as a boy? Well, you've grown a bit
+since then. Hah, hah." Then, recollecting the solemnity of the occasion,
+he subdued his voice. "I'm Twombley, friend of your father's, you know,
+and this is Mr. James, your vicar, and this is Mr. Tinker, the coroner,
+and this is Judson, celebrated detective, you know. I sent for him. Hope
+you approve? Terrible business, what?"
+
+"It has been a great shock to me, and I am very glad to have Judson's
+assistance," replied Cyril, casting a searching and apprehensive glance
+at the detective.
+
+He was a small, clean-shaven man with short, grey hair, grey eyebrows,
+grey complexion, dressed in a grey tweed suit. His features were
+peculiarly indefinite. His half-closed eyes, lying in the shadow of the
+overhanging brows, were fringed with light eyelashes and gave no accent
+to his expressionless face.
+
+At all events, thought Cyril, he doesn't look very alarming, but then,
+you never can tell.
+
+"I must condole with you on the unexpected loss of a relative, who was
+in every way an honour to his name and his position," said the vicar,
+holding out a podgy hand.
+
+Cyril was so taken aback at this unexpected tribute to his cousin's
+memory that he was only able to murmur a discreet "Thank you."
+
+"The late Lord Wilmersley," said the coroner, "was a most
+public-spirited man and is a loss to the county."
+
+"Quite so, quite so," assented Mr. Twombley. "Gave a good bit to the
+hunt, though he never hunted. Pretty decent of him, you know. You hunt,
+of course?"
+
+"I haven't done much of it lately, but I shall certainly do so in
+future."
+
+"Your cousin," interrupted the vicar, "was a man of deep religious
+convictions. His long stay in heathen lands had only strengthened his
+devotion to the true faith. His pew was never empty and he subscribed
+liberally to many charities."
+
+By Jove, thought poor Cyril, his cousin had evidently been a paragon. It
+seemed incredible.
+
+"I see it will be difficult to fill his place," he said aloud. "But I
+will do my best."
+
+Twombley clapped him heartily on the back. "Oh, you'll do all right, my
+boy, and then, you know, you'll open the castle. The place has been like
+a prison since Wilmersley's marriage."
+
+"No one regretted that as much as Lord Wilmersley," said the vicar. "He
+often spoke to me about it. But he had the choice between placing Lady
+Wilmersley in an institution or turning the castle into an asylum. He
+chose the latter alternative, although it was a great sacrifice. I have
+rarely known so agreeable a man or one so suited to shine in any
+company. It was unpardonable of Lady Upton to have allowed him to marry
+without warning him of her granddaughter's condition. But he never had a
+word of blame for her."
+
+"It was certainly a pity he did not have Lady Wilmersley put under
+proper restraint. If he had only done so, he would be alive now," said
+the coroner.
+
+"So you believe that she murdered his lordship?"
+
+"Undoubtedly. Who else could have done it? Who else had a motive for
+doing it. My theory is that her ladyship wanted to escape, that his
+lordship tried to prevent her, and so she shot him. Don't you agree with
+me, Mr. Judson?"
+
+"It is impossible for me to express an opinion at present. I have not
+had time to collect enough data," replied the detective pompously.
+
+"He puts on such a lot of side, I believe he's an ass," thought Cyril,
+heaving a sigh of relief. "But what about the missing jewels?" he said
+aloud. "Their disappearance certainly provides a motive for the crime?"
+
+"Yes, but only Lord and Lady Wilmersley knew the combination of the
+safe."
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+"All the servants are agreed as to that. Besides, a burglar would hardly
+have overlooked the drawers of Lord Wilmersley's desk, which contained
+about L300 in notes."
+
+"The thief may not have got as far as the library. Lady Wilmersley
+occupied the blue room, I suppose."
+
+"Not at all. At the time of his marriage Lord Wilmersley ordered a suite
+of rooms on the ground floor prepared for his bride's reception,"
+replied the vicar.
+
+"And this swimming-bath? Where is that? There was none when I was here
+as a child."
+
+"No, it was built for Lady Wilmersley and adjoins her private
+apartments," said the vicar.
+
+"But all these rooms are on the ground floor. It must be an easy matter
+to enter them. Consequently----"
+
+"Easy!" interrupted Twombley; "not a bit of it! But come and see for
+yourself."
+
+Crossing the hall they paused at a door. "Now this door and that one
+next to it, which is the door of Lady Wilmersley's bedroom," said the
+coroner, "are the only ones in this wing which communicate with the rest
+of the castle, and both were usually kept locked, not only at night, but
+during the daytime. You will please notice, my lord," continued the
+coroner, as they entered the library, "that both doors are fitted with
+an ingenious device, by means of which they can be bolted and unbolted
+from several seats in this room and from the divans in the
+swimming-bath. Only in the early morning were the housemaids admitted to
+these rooms; after that no one but Mustapha, Lord Wilmersley's Turkish
+valet, ever crossed the threshold, unless with his lordship's express
+permission."
+
+Twombley hurried him through the library.
+
+"You can look this room over later; I want you first to see the
+swimming-bath."
+
+Cyril found himself in an immense and lofty hall, constructed entirely
+of white marble and lighted by innumerable jewelled lamps, whose
+multi-coloured lights were reflected in the transparent waters of a
+pool, from the middle of which rose and splashed a fountain. Divans
+covered with soft cushions and several small tables laden with pipes,
+_houkahs_, cigarettes, etc., were placed at intervals around the sides
+of the bath. On one of the tables, Cyril noticed that two coffee-cups
+were still standing and by the side of a divan lay a long Turkish pipe.
+The floor was strewn with rare skins. A profusion of tropical plants
+imparted a heavy perfume to the air, which was warm and moist. Cyril
+blinked his eyes; he felt as if he had suddenly been transported to the
+palace of Aladdin.
+
+"Rum place, what?" said Twombley, looking about him with evident
+disfavour. "To be shut in here for three years would be enough to drive
+any one crazy, I say."
+
+"You will notice," said the coroner, "that the only entrance to the bath
+is through the library or her ladyship's bedroom. No one could have let
+himself down through the skylight, as it is protected by iron bars."
+
+"I see."
+
+"It was here and in the library that Lord Wilmersley spent his time, and
+it was here in the right-hand corner of the bath that his body was
+discovered this morning by one of the housemaids. The spot, as you see,
+is exactly opposite her ladyship's door and that door was found open,
+just as it stands at present. Now the housemaids swear that they always
+found it closed and it is their belief that his lordship used to lock
+her ladyship in her rooms before retiring to his own quarters for the
+night. At all events they were never allowed to see her ladyship or
+enter her apartments unless his lordship or her ladyship's maid was also
+present."
+
+"At about what time is Lord Wilmersley supposed to have been killed?"
+asked Cyril after a slight pause.
+
+"Judging from the condition of the body, the doctor thinks that the
+murder was committed between eleven and twelve P.M.," replied the
+coroner; "and whoever fired the shot must have stood five or six feet
+from Lord Wilmersley; in all probability, therefore, in the doorway of
+the bedroom. This is the room. Nothing has been touched, and you see
+that neither here nor in the swimming-bath are there signs of a
+struggle."
+
+"The door leading into the hall was found locked?"
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Then how did the house-man enter?"
+
+"By means of a pass-key."
+
+"Where does that other door lead to?" asked Cyril, pointing to a door to
+his left.
+
+"Into the sitting-room," replied the coroner, throwing it open. "It was
+here, I am told, that Lady Wilmersley usually spent the morning."
+
+It was a large, pleasant room panelled in white. A few faded pastels of
+by-gone beauties ornamented the walls. A gilt cage in which slumbered a
+canary hung in one of the windows. Cyril looked eagerly about him for
+some traces of its late occupant's personality; but except for a piece
+of unfinished needlework, lying on a small table near the fireplace,
+there was nothing to betray the owner's taste or occupations.
+
+"And there is no way out of this room except through the bedroom?"
+
+"None."
+
+"No secret door?"
+
+"No, my lord. Mr. Judson thought of that and has tapped the walls."
+
+"But the windows?"
+
+"These windows as well as those in the bedroom are fitted with heavy
+iron bars. Look," he said.
+
+"Who was the last person known to have seen Lord Wilmersley alive?"
+
+"Mustapha. He carried coffee into the swimming-bath at a quarter past
+nine, as was his daily custom."
+
+"And he noticed nothing unusual?"
+
+"Nothing. And he swears that in passing out through the library he heard
+the bolt click behind him."
+
+"What sort of a person is Mustapha?"
+
+"Lord Wilmersley brought him back with him when he returned from the
+East. He had the greatest confidence in him," said the vicar.
+
+"Do you know what his fellow-servants think of him," inquired Cyril,
+addressing the coroner.
+
+"He kept very much to himself. I fancy he is not a favourite, but no one
+has actually said anything against him."
+
+"Insular prejudice!" cried the vicar. "How few of us are able to
+overcome our inborn British suspicion of the foreigner!"
+
+"Now will you examine the library?" asked the coroner. "See, here is his
+lordship's desk. There are the drawers in which the L300 were found, and
+yet any one could have picked that lock."
+
+"Where does that door lead to?"
+
+"Into Lord Wilmersley's bedroom, the window of which is also provided
+with iron bars."
+
+"And that room has no exit but this?"
+
+"None, my lord. If the murderer came from outside, he must have got in
+through one of these windows, which are the only ones in this wing which
+have no protection, and this one was found ajar--but it may have been
+used only as an exit, not as an entrance."
+
+Cyril looked out. Even a woman would have no difficulty in jumping to
+the ground.
+
+"But it couldn't have been a burglar," said the vicar, "for what object
+could a thief have for destroying a portrait?"
+
+"Destroying what portrait?" inquired Cyril.
+
+"Oh, didn't you know that her ladyship's portrait was found cut into
+shreds?" said the coroner.
+
+"And a pair of Lady Wilmersley's scissors lay on the floor in front of
+it," added the vicar.
+
+"Let me see it," cried Cyril.
+
+Going to a corner of the room the vicar pulled aside a velvet curtain
+behind which hung the wreck of a picture. The canvas was slashed from
+top to bottom. No trace of the face was left; only a small piece of fair
+hair was still distinguishable.
+
+Cyril grasped Twombley's arm. Fair! And his mysterious _protegee_ was
+dark!
+
+"What--what was the colour of Lady Wilmersley's hair?" He almost
+stuttered with excitement.
+
+"A very pale yellow," replied the coroner.
+
+"Why do you ask?" inquired the detective.
+
+For the convenience of my readers I give a diagram of Lord and Lady
+Wilmersley's apartments.
+
+[Illustration:
+    X. Spot where Lord Wilmersley's body was found.
+    1. Doors locked and barred.
+    2. Windows all barred.
+    3. Window without bars found open.
+    4. Library table.
+    5. Lady Wilmersley's portrait.
+    6. Doors leading to swimming-pool.
+    7. Doors leading from hall.
+    8. Divans.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE DETECTIVE DETECTS
+
+
+"A very pale yellow!" Cyril was dumb-founded.
+
+Every fact, every inference had seemed to prove beyond the shadow of a
+doubt that his _protegee_ and Lady Wilmersley were one and the same
+person. Was it possible that she could have worn a wig? No, for he
+remembered that in lifting her veil, he had inadvertently pulled her
+hair a little and had admired the way it grew on her temples.
+
+"Why does the colour of her ladyship's hair interest you, my lord?"
+again inquired the detective.
+
+Cyril blushed with confusion as he realised that all three men were
+watching him with evident astonishment. What a fool he was not to have
+been able to conceal his surprise! What answer could he give them?
+However, as it was not his cousin's murderess he was hiding, he felt he
+had nothing to fear from the detective, so ignoring him he turned to Mr.
+Twombley and said with a forced laugh:
+
+"I must be losing my mind, for I distinctly remember hearing a friend of
+mine rave about Lady Wilmersley's dark beauty." Rather a fishy
+explanation, thought poor Cyril; but really his powers of invention were
+exhausted. Would it satisfy them?
+
+He glanced sharply at the detective. The latter was no longer looking at
+him, but was contemplating his watch-chain with absorbed attention.
+
+"Hah, hah! Rather a joke, what?" laughed Twombley. "Never had seen her,
+I suppose; no one ever did, you know, except out driving."
+
+"It was either a silly joke or my memory is in a bad shape," said Cyril.
+"Luckily it is a matter of no consequence. What is of vital importance,
+however," he continued, turning to the detective, "is that her ladyship
+should be secured immediately. No one is safe while she is still at
+large."
+
+"It is unfortunate," replied the detective, "that no photograph of her
+ladyship can be found, but we have telegraphed her description all over
+the country."
+
+"What is her description, by the way?"
+
+"Here it is, my lord," said Judson, handing Cyril a printed sheet.
+
+"Height, 5 feet 3; weight, about 9 stone 2; hair, very fair, inclined to
+be wavy; nose, straight; mouth, small; eyes, blue; face, oval," read
+Cyril. "Well, I suppose that will have to do, but of course that
+description would fit half the women in England."
+
+"That's the trouble, my lord."
+
+"Mr. Twombley, when you said just now that no one knew her, did you mean
+that literally?"
+
+"Nobody in the county did; I'm sure of that."
+
+"And you, Mr. James? Is it possible that even you never saw her?"
+
+"I have never spoken to her."
+
+"Then so far as you know, the only person outside the castle she could
+communicate with was the doctor. What sort of a man is he?"
+
+"What doctor are you speaking of?" inquired the vicar.
+
+"Why, the doctor who had charge of her case, of course," replied Cyril
+impatiently.
+
+"I never heard of her having a doctor."
+
+"Do you mean to say that Wilmersley kept her in confinement without
+orders from a physician?"
+
+"No, I suppose not. Of course not. There must have been some one,"
+faltered the vicar a trifle abashed.
+
+"You never, however, inquired by what authority he kept his wife shut
+up?"
+
+"I never insulted Lord Wilmersley by questioning the wisdom of his
+conduct or the integrity of his motives, and I repeat that there was
+undoubtedly some physician in attendance on Lady Wilmersley, only I do
+not happen to know who he is."
+
+"Well, I must clear this matter up at once. Please ring the bell,
+Judson."
+
+A minute later the butler appeared.
+
+"Who was her ladyship's physician?" demanded Cyril.
+
+"My lady never 'ad one; leastways not till yesterday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"Yes, my lord, yesterday afternoon two gentlemen drove up in a fly and
+one of them says 'is name is Dr. Brown and that 'e was expected, and 'is
+lordship said as how I was to show them in here, and so I did."
+
+"You think they came to see her ladyship?"
+
+"Yes, my lord, and at dinner her ladyship seemed very much upset. She
+didn't eat a morsel, though 'is lordship urged 'er ever so."
+
+"But why should a doctor's visit upset her ladyship?"
+
+The butler pursed his lips and looked mysterious. "I can't say, my
+lord."
+
+"Nonsense, you've some idea in your head. Out with it!"
+
+"Well, my lord, me and Charles, we thought as she was afraid they were
+going to lock 'er up."
+
+Cyril started slightly.
+
+"Ah! If they had done so long ago!" exclaimed the vicar, clasping his
+hands.
+
+"But, sir, her ladyship wasn't crazy! They all say so, but it isn't
+true. Me and Charles 'ave watched 'er at table day in and day out and
+we're willing to swear that she isn't any more crazy than--than me!
+Please excuse the liberty, but I never thought 'er ladyship was treated
+right, I never did."
+
+"Why, you told me yourself that his lordship was devoted to her."
+
+"So 'e was, my lord, so 'e was." The man shuffled uneasily.
+
+"If her ladyship is not insane, why do you think his lordship kept her a
+prisoner here?"
+
+"Well, my lord, some people 'ave thought that it was jealousy as made
+him do it."
+
+"That," exclaimed the vicar, "is a vile calumny, which I have done my
+best to refute."
+
+"So jealousy was the motive generally ascribed to my cousin's treatment
+of his wife?"
+
+"Not generally, far from it; but I regret to say that there are people
+who professed to believe it."
+
+"Did her ladyship have a nurse?" asked Cyril, addressing the butler.
+
+"No, my lord, only a maid."
+
+"Mrs. Valdriguez is a very respectable person, my lord."
+
+"Mrs. What?" demanded Cyril.
+
+"Mrs. Valdriguez."
+
+"What a queer name."
+
+"Perhaps, my lord, I don't pronounce it just right. Mrs. Valdriguez is
+Spanish."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Yes, my lord, she was here first in the time of Lord Wilmersley's
+mother, and 'is lordship brought 'er back again when he returned from
+'is 'oneymoon. Lady Wilmersley never left these rooms without 'aving
+either 'is lordship, Mustapha, or Valdriguez with 'er."
+
+"Very good, Douglas, you can go now."
+
+"A pretty state of things!" cried Cyril when the door closed behind the
+butler. "Here in civilised England a poor young creature is kept in
+confinement with a Spanish woman and a Turk to watch over her, and no
+one thinks of demanding an investigation! It's monstrous!"
+
+"My boy, you're right. Never liked the man myself--confess it now--but I
+didn't know anything against him. Pretty difficult to interfere, what?
+Never occurred to me to do so."
+
+"I am deeply pained by your attitude to your unfortunate cousin, who
+paid with his life for his devotion to an afflicted woman. I feel it my
+duty to say that your suspicions are unworthy of you. I must go now; I
+have some parochial duties to attend to." And with scant ceremony the
+vicar stalked out of the room.
+
+"It's getting late, I see. Must be off too. Can't be late for
+dinner--wife, you know. Why don't you come with me--gloomy
+here--delighted to put you up. Do come," urged Twombley.
+
+"Thanks awfully, not to-night. I'm dead beat. It's awfully good of you
+to suggest it, though."
+
+"Not at all; sorry you won't come. See you at the inquest," said
+Twombley as he took his departure followed by the coroner.
+
+Cyril remained where they left him. He was too weary to move. Before him
+on the desk lay his cousin's blotter. Its white surface still bore the
+impress of the latter's thick, sprawling handwriting. That chair not so
+many hours ago had held his unwieldy form. The murdered man's presence
+seemed to permeate the room. Cyril shuddered involuntarily. The heavy,
+perfume-laden air stifled him. What was that? He could hear nothing but
+the tumultuous beating of his own heart. Yet he was sure, warned by some
+mysterious instinct, that he was not alone. Behind him stood--something.
+He longed to move, but terror riveted him to the spot. A vision of his
+cousin's baleful eyes rose before him with horrible vividness. He could
+feel their vindictive glare scorching him. Was he going mad? Was he a
+coward? No, he must face the--thing--come what might. Throwing back his
+head defiantly, he wheeled around--the detective was at his elbow! Cyril
+gave a gasp of relief and wiped the tell-tale perspiration from his
+forehead. He had completely forgotten the fellow. What a shocking state
+his nerves were in!
+
+"Can you spare me a few minutes, my lord?" Whenever the detective spoke,
+Cyril had the curious impression as of a voice issuing from a fog. So
+grey, so effaced, so absolutely characterless was the man's exterior!
+His voice, on the other hand, was excessively individual. There lurked
+in it a suggestion of assertiveness, of aggressiveness even. Cyril was
+conscious of a sudden dread of this strong, insistent personality, lying
+as it were at ambush within that envelope of a body, that envelope which
+he felt he could never penetrate, which gave no indication whether it
+concealed a friend or enemy, a saint or villain.
+
+"I shall not detain you long," Judson added, as Cyril did not answer
+immediately.
+
+"Come into the drawing-room," said Cyril, leading the way there.
+
+Thank God, he could breathe freely once more, thought Cyril, as he flung
+himself into the comfortable depths of a chintz-covered sofa. How
+delightfully wholesome and commonplace was this room! The air, a trifle
+chill, notwithstanding the coal fire burning on the hearth, was like
+balm to his fevered senses. His very soul felt cleansed and refreshed.
+He no longer understood the terror which had so lately possessed him. He
+looked at Judson. How could he ever have dignified this remarkably
+unremarkable little man with his pompous manner into a mysterious and
+possibly hostile force. The thing was absurd.
+
+"Sit down, Judson," said Cyril carelessly.
+
+"My lord, am I not right in supposing that I am unknown to you? By
+reputation, I mean."
+
+"Quite," Cyril candidly acknowledged.
+
+"Ah! I thought so. Let me tell you then, my lord, that I am the
+receptacle of the secrets of most, if not all, of the aristocracy."
+
+"Indeed!" said Cyril. I'll take good care, he thought, that mine don't
+swell the number.
+
+"That being the case, it is clear that my reputation for discretion is
+unassailable. You see the force of that argument, my lord?"
+
+"Certainly," replied Cyril wearily.
+
+"Anything, therefore, which I may discover during the course of this
+investigation, you may rest assured will be kept absolutely secret." He
+paused a moment. "You can, therefore, confide in me without fear,"
+continued the detective.
+
+Cyril was surprised and a little startled. What did the man know?
+
+"What makes you think I have anything to confide?" he asked.
+
+"It is quite obvious, my lord, that you are holding something
+back--something which would explain your attitude towards Lady
+Wilmersley."
+
+"I don't follow you," replied Cyril, on his guard.
+
+"You have given every one to understand that you have never seen her
+ladyship. You take up a stranger's cause very warmly, my lord."
+
+"I trust I shall always espouse the cause of every persecuted woman."
+
+"But how are you sure that she was persecuted? Every one praises his
+lordship's devotion to her. He gave her everything she could wish for
+except liberty. If she was insane, his conduct deserves great praise."
+
+"But I am sure she is not."
+
+"But you yourself urged me to secure her as soon as possible because you
+were afraid she might do further harm," Judson reminded him.
+
+"That was before I heard Douglas's testimony. He has seen her daily for
+three years and swears she is sane."
+
+"And the opinion of an ignorant servant is sufficient to make you
+condemn his lordship without further proof?"
+
+Cyril moved uneasily.
+
+"If Lady Wilmersley is perfectly sane, it seems to me incredible that
+she did not manage to escape years ago. A note dropped out of her
+carriage would have brought the whole countryside to her rescue. Why,
+she had only to appeal to this very same butler, who is convinced of her
+sanity, and Lord Wilmersley could not have prevented her from leaving
+the castle. Public opinion would have protected her."
+
+"That is true," acknowledged Cyril, "but her spirit may have been
+broken."
+
+"What was there to break it? We hear only of his lordship's almost
+excessive devotion. No, my lord, I can't help thinking that you are
+judging both Lord and Lady Wilmersley by facts of which I am ignorant."
+
+Cyril did not know what to answer. He had at first championed Lady
+Wilmersley because he had believed her to be his _protegee_, but now
+that it had been proved that she was not, why was he still convinced
+that she had in some way been a victim of her husband's cruelty? He had
+to acknowledge that beyond a vague distrust of his cousin he had not
+only no adequate reason, but no reason at all, for his suspicions.
+
+"You are mistaken," he said at last; "I am withholding nothing that
+could in any way assist you to unravel this mystery. I confess I neither
+liked nor trusted my cousin. I had no special reason. It was simply a
+case of Dr. Fell. I know no more than you do of his treatment of her
+ladyship. But doesn't the choice of a Turk and a Spaniard as attendants
+on Lady Wilmersley seem to you open to criticism?"
+
+"Not necessarily, my lord. We trust most those we know best. Lord
+Wilmersley had spent the greater part of his life with Turks and
+Spaniards. It therefore seems to me quite natural that when it came to
+selecting guardians for her ladyship, he should have chosen a man and a
+woman he had presumably known for some years, whose worth he had proved,
+whose fidelity he could rely on."
+
+"That sounds plausible," agreed Cyril; "still I can't help thinking it
+very peculiar, to say the least, that Lady Wilmersley was not under a
+doctor's care."
+
+"Her ladyship may have been too unbalanced to mingle with people, and
+yet not in a condition to require medical attention. Such cases are not
+uncommon."
+
+"True, and yet I have a feeling that Douglas was right, when he assured
+us that her ladyship is not insane. You discredit his testimony on the
+ground that he is an ignorant man. But if a man of sound common-sense
+has the opportunity of observing a woman daily during three years, it
+seems to me that his opinion cannot be lightly ignored. You never knew
+my cousin. Well, I did, and as I said before, he was a man who inspired
+me with the profoundest distrust, although I cannot cite one fact to
+justify my aversion. I cannot believe that he ever sacrificed himself
+for any one and am much more inclined to credit Douglas's suggestion
+that it was jealousy which led him to keep her ladyship in such strict
+seclusion. But why waste our time in idle conjectures when it is so easy
+to find out the truth? Those two doctors who saw her yesterday must be
+found. If they are men of good reputation, of course I shall accept
+their report as final."
+
+"Very good, my lord, I will at once have an advertisement inserted in
+all the papers asking them to communicate with us. If that does not
+fetch them, I shall employ other means of tracing them."
+
+"Has Lady Upton, her ladyship's grandmother, been heard from?"
+
+"She wired this morning asking for further particulars. Mr. Twombley
+answered her, I believe."
+
+A slight pause ensued during which Judson watched Cyril as if expecting
+him to speak.
+
+"And you have still nothing to say to me, my lord?" The detective spoke
+with evident disappointment.
+
+"No, what else should I have to say?" replied Cyril with some surprise.
+
+"That is, of course, for you to judge, my lord." His meaning was
+unmistakable. Cyril flushed angrily. Was it possible that the man dared
+to doubt his word? Dared to disbelieve his positive assertion that he
+knew nothing whatsoever about the murder? The damnable--suddenly he
+remembered! Remembered the lies he had been so glibly telling all day.
+Why should any one believe him in future? His ignominy was probably
+already stamped on his face.
+
+"I have nothing more to say," replied Cyril in a strangely meek voice.
+
+"That being the case, I'd better be off," said Judson, rising slowly
+from his chair.
+
+"Where are you going now?"
+
+"I can't quite tell, my lord. It is my intention to vanish, so to
+speak."
+
+"Vanish."
+
+"Yes, my lord. I work best in the dark; but you will hear from me as
+soon as I have something definite to report."
+
+"I hope you will be successful," said Cyril.
+
+"Thank you; I've never failed so far in anything I have undertaken. I
+must, however, warn you, my lord, that investigations sometimes lead to
+conclusions which no one could have foreseen when they were started. I
+always make a point of reminding my employers of this possibility."
+
+What the devil was the man driving at, thought Cyril; did he suspect him
+by any chance? That would be really too absurd! The man was an ass.
+
+"I shall never quarrel with you for discovering the truth," said Cyril,
+drawing himself up to his full height and glaring fiercely down at the
+little grey man. Then, turning abruptly on his heel he stalked
+indignantly out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE MYSTERIOUS MAID
+
+
+"My lord."
+
+Cyril shook himself reluctantly awake.
+
+"Sorry to disturb you, but this 'as just come," said Peter, holding out
+a tray on which lay an opened telegram. His expression was so tragic
+that Cyril started up and seized the message.
+
+It was addressed to Peter Thompkins, Geralton Castle, Newhaven, and
+read: "Change for the better. Your presence necessary." Signed,
+"Stuart-Smith."
+
+"Why, that is good news!" cried Cyril greatly relieved. "What are you
+pulling such a long face for?"
+
+"You call it good news that you haven't got rid of that young woman
+yet?" exclaimed Peter. "This Stuart-Smith, whoever he may be, who is
+wiring you to come to 'er, thinks she's your wife, doesn't he? That was
+bad enough when you were just Mr. Crichton, but now it's just hawful. A
+Lady Wilmersley can't be hid as a Mrs. Crichton could, begging your
+pardon. Oh, it'll all come out, so it will, and you'll be 'ad up for
+bigamy, like as not!" Peter almost groaned.
+
+"Nonsense! As soon as the young lady recovers, she will join her friends
+and no one will be any the wiser."
+
+Peter shook his head incredulously.
+
+"Well, my lord, let's 'ope so! But what answer am I to send to this
+telegram? You can't leave the castle now."
+
+"It would certainly be inconvenient," agreed his master.
+
+"If you did, you'd be followed, my lord."
+
+"What do you mean? The police can't be such fools as all that."
+
+"'Tisn't the police, my lord. It's those men from the newspapers. The
+castle is full of them; they're nosing about heverywhere; there's not
+one of us as hasn't been pestered with the fellows. It's what you are
+like, what are you doing, what 'ave you done, and a lot more foolish
+questions hever since we set foot here yesterday afternoon. And 'we'll
+pay you well,' they say. Of course, I've not opened my mouth to them,
+but they're that persistent, they'll follow you to the end of the earth
+if you should leave the castle unexpectedly."
+
+This was a complication that had not occurred to Cyril, and yet he felt
+he ought to have foreseen it. What was to be done? He couldn't abandon
+the girl. Suddenly Stuart-Smith's stern face and uncompromising upper
+lip rose vividly before him. Even if he wished to do so, the doctor
+would never allow him to ignore his supposed wife. If he did not answer
+his summons in person, Smith would certainly put the worst
+interpretation on his absence. He would argue that only a brute would
+neglect a wife who was lying seriously ill and the fact that the girl
+had been flogged could also be remembered against him. Dr. Smith was
+capable of taking drastic measures to force him into performing what he
+considered the latter's obvious duty.
+
+Cyril did not know what to do. He had only a choice of evils. If he
+went, he would surely be followed and the girl's existence and
+hiding-place discovered. That would be fatal not only to him but to her,
+for she had feared detection above all things--why, he could not even
+surmise--he no longer even cared; but he had promised to protect her and
+meant to do so.
+
+On the other hand, if he did not go, he ran the risk of the doctor's
+publishing the girl's whereabouts. Still, it was by no means certain he
+would do so, and if he wrote Smith a diplomatic letter, he might succeed
+in persuading him that it was best for the girl if he stayed away a day
+longer. Yes, that was the thing to do. Hastily throwing on a
+dressing-gown, he sat down at the desk. It was a difficult letter to
+write and he destroyed many sheets before he was finally satisfied. This
+was the result of his efforts:
+
+     "DEAR DR. STUART-SMITH:
+
+     "I am infinitely relieved that your patient is better. As you
+     addressed your wire here, I gather that you know of the tragic
+     occurrence, which has kept me from her side. It is impossible
+     for me to leave before the funeral without explaining my
+     mission, and this I am very loath to do, as I am more than ever
+     anxious to keep her malady a secret. Dr. Monet has always
+     believed in the possibility of a cure, and as long as there is
+     a chance of that, I am sure you will agree with me that I ought
+     to make every sacrifice to protect her from gossip. If she did
+     recover and her illness became known, it would greatly handicap
+     her in her new life. Having to stay away from her would be even
+     more distressing to me than it is if I could flatter myself
+     that my presence would have a good effect upon her. I am sure,
+     however, that such would not be the case.
+
+     "I shall return to London late to-morrow afternoon and will
+     telephone you immediately on my arrival.
+
+     "I am sending this by a trustworthy servant, who will bring me
+     your answer. I am most anxious to hear what you think of your
+     patient's condition, mentally as well as physically. I am sure
+     she could not be in better hands."
+
+Then Cyril hesitated. What should he sign himself? Thompkins? No, he
+wished to inspire confidence; his own name would be better. So with a
+firm hand he wrote "Wilmersley."
+
+It was the first time he had used his new signature and he heartily
+wished it had not been appended to such a document.
+
+"Now, Peter," he said, "you must take the next train to London and carry
+this to Dr. Stuart-Smith. If he is not at the nursing home, telephone to
+his house and find out where he is. The letter must be delivered as soon
+as possible and you are to wait for a reply. If the doctor asks you any
+questions, answer as briefly as possible. In order to avoid comment you
+had better let it be known that you are going up to town to do some
+shopping for me. Buy something--anything. I want you also to call at the
+lodgings and tell them we shall return to-morrow. If you are followed,
+which I can't believe you will be, this will allay suspicion. Take a
+taxi and get back as soon as possible. Don't drive directly to the Home.
+You may mention to the doctor that I am extremely anxious about Mrs.
+Thompkins."
+
+"Very good, my lord."
+
+"Throw the sheets I have scribbled on into the fire and the blotting
+paper as well," ordered Cyril.
+
+He felt rather proud of having thought of this detail, but with
+detectives and pressmen prowling around he must run no risks. It was
+with a very perturbed mind that Cyril finally went down to breakfast.
+
+"Mrs. Eversley would like to speak to you, my lord, as soon as
+convenient," said Douglas as his master rose from the table. Cyril
+fancied he detected a gleam of suppressed excitement in the butler's
+eye.
+
+"I'll see her at once," Cyril answered.
+
+A stout, respectable-looking woman hesitated in the doorway.
+
+"Come in, Mrs. Eversley," cried Cyril. "I'm glad to see you again. I've
+never forgotten you or your doughnuts."
+
+The troubled face broke into a pleased smile as the woman dropped a
+courtesy.
+
+"It's very kind of you to remember them, my lord, very kind indeed, and
+glad I am to see you again." The smile vanished. "This is a terrible
+business, my lord."
+
+"Terrible," assented Cyril.
+
+"His poor lordship! Mrs. Valdriguez has said for months and months that
+something like this was sure to happen some day."
+
+"Do you mean to say that she prophesied that her ladyship would kill his
+lordship?" exclaimed Cyril.
+
+"Yes, my lord, indeed she did! It made me feel that queer when it really
+'appened."
+
+"I should think so. It's most extraordinary."
+
+"But begging your pardon, my lord, there is something special as made me
+ask to speak to you--something I thought you ought to know immediately."
+
+"What is it?" Cyril had felt that some new trouble was brewing.
+
+"One of the servants has disappeared, my lord."
+
+"Disappeared? How? When?"
+
+"Perhaps I'm making too much of it, but this murder has that upset me
+that I'm afraid of my own shadow and I says to myself, says I: 'Don't
+wait; go and tell his lordship at once and he'll know whether it is
+important or not.'"
+
+"You did perfectly right. But who has disappeared?"
+
+"Priscilla Prentice and perhaps she hasn't disappeared at all. This is
+how it is: The day before yesterday----"
+
+"The day of the murder?" asked Cyril.
+
+"Yes, my lord. Prentice came to me and asked if she could go to Newhaven
+to see a cousin she has there. The cousin is ill--leastways so she told
+me--and she wanted as a great favour to be allowed to spend the night
+with her, and she promised to come back by the carrier early next
+morning. It seemed all right, so I gave her permission and off she goes.
+Then yesterday this dreadful thing happened and Prentice went clean out
+of my head. I never thought of her again till breakfast this morning
+when Mr. Douglas says to me: 'Why, wherever is Miss Prentice?' You could
+'ave knocked me down with a feather, I was that taken aback! So I says,
+'Whatever can 'ave happened to her?'"
+
+"When she heard of the murder, she may have taken fright. She may be
+waiting to return to the castle till the inquest and funeral are over,"
+suggested Cyril.
+
+"Then she ought at least to have sent word. Besides she should have got
+back before she could have heard of the murder."
+
+"You had better send to the cousin's and find out if she is there. She
+may have been taken ill and had nobody to send a message by."
+
+"We none of us know whereabouts this cousin lives, my lord."
+
+"Newhaven is not a large place. It can't be difficult to find her."
+
+"But we don't know her name, my lord."
+
+"That certainly complicates matters. How long has this girl been at the
+castle?"
+
+"Six months, my lord."
+
+"Who did you get her from?"
+
+"I advertised for her, my lord. Mrs. Valdriguez's eyes are not what they
+were and so she 'ad to have somebody to do the mending. I must say
+foreigners sew beautifully, so it was some time before I could get any
+one whose work suited Mrs. Valdriguez."
+
+"What references did the girl give?"
+
+"It was this way, my lord. She's very young, and this is her first
+place. But she was excellently recommended by Mr. Vaughan, vicar of
+Plumtree, who wrote that she was a most respectable girl and that he
+could vouch for her character. Those are his very words, my lord."
+
+"That certainly sounded satisfactory."
+
+"I'm glad you think so, my lord. So she came. Such a nice young woman
+she seemed, so 'ard-working and conscientious; one who kept 'erself to
+'erself; never a word with the men--never, though she is so pretty."
+
+"Oh, she is pretty, is she?" A faint but horrible suspicion flashed
+through Cyril's mind.
+
+"Yes, my lord, as pretty as a picture."
+
+"What does she look like?"
+
+"She is tall and slight with dark hair and blue eyes," Mrs. Eversley
+answered. She was evidently taken aback at her master's interest in a
+servant's appearance and a certain reserve crept into her voice.
+
+"Could she--would it be possible to mistake her for a lady?" stammered
+Cyril.
+
+Mrs. Eversley started.
+
+"Well, my lord, it's strange you should ask that, for Douglas, he always
+has said, 'Mark my words, Miss Prentice isn't what she seems,' and I
+must say she is very superior, very."
+
+It wasn't, it couldn't be possible, thought Cyril; and yet----
+
+"Did she see much of her ladyship?" he asked.
+
+"Lately, Mrs. Valdriguez, seeing as what she was such a quiet girl, has
+allowed her to put the things she has mended back into her ladyship's
+room, and I know her ladyship has spoken to her, but how often she has
+done so I couldn't really say. Prentice didn't talk much."
+
+"Did she seem much interested in her ladyship?"
+
+"At first very much so. If we were talking about her ladyship, she would
+always stay and listen. Once, when one of the housemaids 'ad said
+something about her being crazy, I think, Prentice got quite excited,
+and when Mrs. Valdriguez had left the room, she said to me, 'I don't
+believe there is anything the matter with her ladyship; I think it just
+cruel the way she is kept locked up!' Begging your pardon, my lord,
+those were her very words. She made me promise not to repeat what she
+had said--least of all to Mrs. Valdriguez, and I never have, not till
+this minute."
+
+"Did she ever suggest that she would like to help her ladyship to
+escape?"
+
+"Why, my lord!" exclaimed Mrs. Eversley, staring at her master in
+astonishment. "That's just what she did do, just once--oh, you don't
+think she did it! And yet that's what they're all saying----"
+
+"Is anything missing from her room?" he asked.
+
+"I can't say, my lord; her trunk is locked and she took a small bag with
+her. But there are things in the drawers and a skirt and a pair of shoes
+in the wardrobe."
+
+"From the appearance of the room, therefore, you should judge that she
+intended to return?"
+
+"Ye-es, my lord--and yet I must say, I was surprised to see so few
+things about, and the skirt and shoes were very shabby."
+
+"I suppose that by this time every one knows the girl is missing?" Cyril
+asked.
+
+"The upper servants do, and the detective was after me to tell him all
+about her, but I wouldn't say a word till I had asked what your
+lordship's wishes are."
+
+"I thought Judson had left the castle?"
+
+"So he has, my lord; this is the man from Scotland Yard. Griggs is his
+name. He was 'ere before Judson, but he had left the castle before you
+arrived."
+
+Impossible even to attempt, to keep her disappearance a secret, thought
+Cyril. After all, perhaps she was not his _protegee_. He was always
+jumping at erroneous conclusions, and a description is so misleading. On
+the other hand, the combination of black hair and blue eyes was a most
+unusual one. Besides, it was already sufficiently remarkable that two
+young and beautiful women had fled from Newhaven on the same day (beauty
+being alas such a rarity!), but that three should have done so was
+well-nigh incredible. But could even the most superior of upper servants
+possess that air of breeding which was one of the girl's most noticeable
+attributes. It was, of course, within the bounds of possibility that
+this maid was well-born and simply forced by poverty into a menial
+position. One thing was certain--if his _protegee_ was Priscilla
+Prentice, then this girl, in spite of her humble occupation, was a lady,
+and consequently more than ever in need of his protection and respect.
+
+Well, assuming that it was Prentice he had rescued, what part had she
+played in the tragedy? Why had she feared arrest? She must have been
+present at the murder, but even in that case, why did she not realise
+that Lady Wilmersley's unbalanced condition would prevent suspicion from
+falling on any one else? The police had never even thought of her! And
+where had she hidden her mistress? It was all most mysterious.
+
+Cyril sat weighing the _pros and cons_ of one theory after another,
+completely oblivious of his housekeeper's presence.
+
+Douglas, entering, discreetly interrupted his cogitations:
+
+"The inquest is about to begin, my lord."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE INQUEST
+
+
+On entering the hall Cyril found that a seat on the right hand of the
+coroner had been reserved for him, but he chose a secluded corner from
+which he could watch the proceedings unobserved.
+
+On the left of Mr. Tinker sat a tall, imposing-looking man, who, on
+inquiry, proved to be Inspector Griggs.
+
+The first part of the inquest developed nothing new. It was only when
+Mustapha stepped forward that Cyril's interest revived and he forgot the
+problem of his _protegee's_ identity.
+
+The Turk, with the exception of a red fez, was dressed as a European,
+but his swarthy skin, large, beak-like nose, and deep, sombre eyes, in
+which brooded the mystery of the East, proclaimed his nationality.
+
+Cyril tried in vain to form some estimate of the man's character, to
+probe the depths of those fathomless eyes, but ignorant as he was of the
+Oriental, he found it impossible to differentiate between Mustapha's
+racial and individual characteristics. That he was full of infinite
+possibilities was evident--even his calmness was suggestive of potential
+passion. A man to be watched, decided Cyril.
+
+Mustapha gave his testimony in a low, clear voice, and although he spoke
+with a strong foreign accent, his English was purer than that of his
+fellow servants.
+
+That he had nothing to do with the murder seemed from the first
+conclusively proved. Several of the servants had seen him enter his
+room, which adjoined that of the butler, at about half-past nine--that
+is to say, an hour and a half before Lord Wilmersley's death could, in
+the doctor's opinion, have taken place--and Douglas on cross--reiterated
+his conviction that Mustapha could not have left his room without his
+having heard him do so, as he, Douglas, was a very light sleeper.
+
+In answer to questions from the coroner, Mustapha told how he had
+entered the late Lord Wilmersley's service some fifteen years
+previously, at which time his master owned a house on the outskirts of
+Constantinople. As he dressed as a Mussulman and consorted entirely with
+the natives, Mustapha did not know that he was a foreigner till his
+master informed him of the fact just before leaving Turkey.
+
+When questioned as to Lady Wilmersley, he was rather non-committal. No,
+he had never believed her to be dangerous.--Had she seemed happy? No,
+she cried often.--Did his lordship ever ill-treat her? Not that he knew
+of. His lordship was very patient with her tears.--Did he know how she
+could have obtained a pistol? Yes, there was one concealed on his
+master's desk. He had discovered that it was missing.--How could a
+pistol lie concealed _on_ a desk? It was hidden inside an ancient steel
+gauntlet, ostensibly used as a paperweight. Mustapha had found it one
+day quite accidentally.--Did he tell his lordship of his discovery? No.
+His master was always afraid of being spied upon.--Why? He did not
+know.--Did Mustapha know of any enemy of his lordship who was likely to
+have sought such a revenge? No. His master's enemies were not in
+England.--Then his lordship had enemies? As all men have, so had
+he.--But he had no special enemy? An enemy is an enemy, but his master's
+enemies were not near.--How could he be so sure of that? He would have
+had word.--How? From whom? From his, Mustapha's friends.--Did his
+lordship fear his enemies would follow him to England? At first,
+perhaps, but not lately.--If his lordship's enemies had found him, would
+they have been likely to kill him? Who can tell? The heart of man is
+very evil.--But he knew no one who could have done this thing? No
+one.--Did he believe his mistress had done it? Mustapha hesitated for
+the first time. "They say so," he finally answered.
+
+"But you, what do you think?" insisted the coroner.
+
+"The ways of women are dark."
+
+"Do you believe her ladyship killed your master--Yes or No?" repeated
+the coroner impatiently.
+
+"It is not for me to say," replied Mustapha with unruffled dignity.
+
+The coroner, feeling himself rebuked, dismissed the man with a hurried
+"That will do."
+
+Mrs. Valdriguez was next called.
+
+She was a tall, thin woman between fifty and sixty. Her black hair,
+freely sprinkled with silver, was drawn into a tight knot at the back of
+her small head. Her pale, haggard face, with its finely-chiselled nose,
+thin-lipped mouth, and slightly-retreating chin, was almost beautified
+by her large, sunken eyes, which still glowed with extraordinary
+brilliancy. Her black dress was austere in its simplicity and she wore
+no ornament except a small gold cross suspended on her bosom.
+
+The woman was obviously nervous. She held her hands tightly clasped in
+front of her, and her lips twitched from time to time. She spoke so low
+that Cyril had to lean forward to catch her answers, but her English was
+perfectly fluent. It was chiefly her accent and intonation which
+betrayed her foreign birth.
+
+"You lived here in the time of the late Lady Wilmersley, did you not?"
+began the coroner.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"In what capacity?"
+
+"As lady's maid, sir."
+
+"When did you leave here, and why?"
+
+"I left when her ladyship died."
+
+"Did you return to Spain?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How did you happen to enter the present Lady Wilmersley's service?"
+
+"Lord Wilmersley sent for me when he was on his wedding journey."
+
+"Had you seen him after you left Geralton?"
+
+"From time to time."
+
+"Do you know whether his lordship had any enemies?"
+
+"Not of late years."
+
+"Then you did know some. Who were they?"
+
+"Those that he had are either dead or have forgiven," Valdriguez
+answered, and as she did so, she fingered the cross on her breast.
+
+"So that you can think of no one likely to have resorted to such a
+terrible revenge?"
+
+"No one, sir."
+
+"On the night of the murder you did not assist her ladyship to undress,
+so I understand?"
+
+"I never did. From the time her ladyship left her room to go to dinner I
+never saw her again till the following morning."
+
+"And you noticed nothing unusual that evening?"
+
+"I can't say that. Her ladyship was very much excited. She cried and
+begged me to help her to escape."
+
+A murmur of excitement ran through the hall.
+
+"What did you say to her?"
+
+"I told her that she was his lordship's lawful wife; that she had vowed
+before God to honour and obey him in all things."
+
+"Had she ever made an attempt to escape?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Did she ever give you any reason for wishing to do so?"
+
+"She told me that his lordship threatened to shut her up in a lunatic
+asylum, but I assured her he would never do so. He loved her too much."
+
+"You consider that he was very devoted to her?"
+
+The woman closed her eyes for a second.
+
+"He loved her as I have never before known a man love a woman," she
+answered, with suppressed vehemence.
+
+"Why then did he send for the doctors to commit her to an institution?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+At this point of the interrogation Cyril scribbled a few words, which he
+gave to one of the footmen to carry to the coroner. When the latter had
+read them, he asked:
+
+"Did you consider her ladyship a dangerous lunatic?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Why, then, did you prophesy that she would kill your master?"
+
+The woman trembled slightly and her hand again sought the cross.
+
+"I--I believed Lord Wilmersley's time had come, but I knew not how he
+would die. I did not know that she would be the instrument--only I
+feared it."
+
+"Why did you think his lordship's days were numbered?"
+
+"Sir, if I were to tell you my reasons, you would say that they were not
+reasons. You would call them superstitions and me a foolish old woman. I
+believe what I believe, and you, what you have been taught. God shall
+judge. Suffice it, sir, that my reasons for believing that his lordship
+would die soon are not such as would appeal to your common-sense."
+
+"H'm, well--I confess that signs and omens are not much in my line, but
+I must really insist upon your giving some explanation as to why you
+feared that your mistress would murder Lord Wilmersley."
+
+The woman's lips twitched convulsively and her eyes glowed with sombre
+fire.
+
+"Because--if you will know it--he loved her more than was natural--he
+loved her more than his God; and the Lord God is a jealous God."
+
+"And this is really your only reason for your extraordinary
+supposition?"
+
+"For me it is enough," she replied.
+
+"Well, well--very curious indeed!" said the coroner, regarding the woman
+intently.
+
+He paused for a moment.
+
+"How did you pass the evening of the murder?" he asked.
+
+"In my room. I had a headache and went early to bed."
+
+"I suppose somebody saw you after you left Lady Wilmersley's room who
+can support your statement?"
+
+"I do not know. I do not remember seeing any one," answered Valdriguez,
+throwing her head back and looking a little defiantly at Mr. Tinker.
+
+"Ah, really? That is a pity," said the coroner. "However, there is no
+reason to doubt your word--as yet," he added.
+
+Mrs. Eversley was next called. The coroner questioned her exhaustively
+as to the missing Priscilla Prentice. He seemed especially anxious to
+know whether the girl had owned a bicycle. She had not.--Did she know
+how to ride one? Yes, Mrs. Eversley had seen her try one belonging to
+the under-housemaid.--Did many of the servants own bicycles? Yes.--Had
+one of them been taken? She did not know.
+
+On further inquiry, however, it was found that all the machines were
+accounted for.
+
+It had not occurred to Cyril to speculate as to how, if Prentice had
+really aided her mistress to escape, she had been able to cover the nine
+miles which separated the castle from Newhaven. Eighteen miles in one
+evening on foot! Not perhaps an impossible feat, but very nearly so,
+especially as on her way back she would have been handicapped by Lady
+Wilmersley, a delicate woman, quite unaccustomed--at all events during
+the last three years--to any form of exercise.
+
+It was evident, however, that this difficulty had not escaped the
+coroner, for all the servants and more especially the gardeners
+and under-gardeners were asked if they had seen in any of the
+less-frequented paths traces of a carriage or bicycle. But no one had
+seen or heard anything suspicious.
+
+The head gardener and his wife, who lived at the Lodge, swore that the
+tall, iron gates had been locked at half-past nine, and that they had
+heard no vehicle pass on the highroad during the night.
+
+At this point in the proceedings whispering was audible in the back of
+the hall. The coroner paused to see what was the matter. A moment later
+Douglas stepped up to him and said something in a low voice. The coroner
+nodded.
+
+"Mrs. Willis," he called.
+
+A middle-aged woman, very red in the face, came reluctantly forward.
+
+"Well, Mrs. Willis, I hear you have something to tell me?"
+
+"Indeed no, sir," exclaimed the woman, picking nervously at her gloves.
+"It is nothing at all. Only when I 'eard you asking about carriages in
+the night, I says to Mrs. Jones--well, one passed, I know that.
+Leastways, it didn't exactly pass; it stayed."
+
+"The carriage stayed; where?"
+
+"It wasn't a carriage."
+
+"It wasn't a carriage and it stayed? Can't you explain yourself more
+clearly, Mrs. Willis? This isn't a conundrum, is it?"
+
+"It was a car, a motor-car," stammered the woman.
+
+"A car! And it stopped? Where?"
+
+"I couldn't say exactly, but not far from our cottage."
+
+"And where is your cottage?"
+
+"On the 'ighroad near the long lane."
+
+"I see." The coroner was obviously excited. "Your husband is one of the
+gardeners here, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"So there is doubtless a path connecting your cottage with the castle
+grounds?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"About how far from your cottage was the car?"
+
+"I didn't see it, sir; I just 'eard it; but it wasn't far, that I know,"
+reiterated the woman.
+
+"Did you hear any one pass through your garden?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Could they have done so without your hearing them?"
+
+"They might."
+
+"Was the car going to or coming from Newhaven?"
+
+"It was coming from Newhaven."
+
+"Then it must have stopped at the foot of the long lane."
+
+"Yes, sir; that's just about where I thought it was."
+
+"Is there a path connecting Long Lane with the highroad?"
+
+"Yes, a narrow one."
+
+"What time was it when you heard the car? Now try and be very accurate."
+
+"I wouldn't like to swear, sir, but I think it was between eleven and
+twelve."
+
+"Did your husband hear it also?"
+
+"No, sir, 'e was fast asleep, but I wasn't feeling very well, so I had
+got up thinking I'd make myself a cup of tea, and just then I 'eard a
+car come whizzing along, and then there was a bang. Oh, says I, they've
+burst their wheel, that's what they've done, me knowing about cars. I
+know it takes a bit of mending, a wheel does, so I wasn't surprised when
+I 'eard no more of them for a time--and I 'ad just about forgotten all
+about them, so I had, when I 'ears them move off."
+
+"And they did not pass your cottage?"
+
+"No, sir, I'm sure of that."
+
+"Did you hear anything else?"
+
+"Well, sir"--the woman fidgeted uneasily, "I thought--but I shouldn't
+like to swear to it--not on the Bible--but I fancied I 'eard a cry."
+
+"What sort of a cry? Was it a man or a woman's?"
+
+"I really couldn't say--and perhaps what I 'eard was not a cry at
+all----"
+
+"Well, well--this is most important. A motor-car that is driven at
+half-past eleven at night to the foot of a lane which leads nowhere but
+to the castle grounds, and then returns in the direction it came
+from--very extraordinary--very. We must look into this," exclaimed the
+coroner.
+
+And with this the inquest was adjourned.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+LADY UPTON
+
+
+     Dr. Stuart-Smith to Mr. Peter Thompkins, Geralton Castle,
+     Newhaven.
+
+     "DEAR LORD WILMERSLEY:
+
+     "Lady Wilmersley showed signs of returning consciousness at
+     half-past five yesterday afternoon. I was at once sent for, but
+     when I arrived she had fallen asleep. She woke again at nine
+     o'clock and this time asked where she was. She spoke
+     indistinctly and did not seem to comprehend what the nurse said
+     to her. When I reached the patient, I found her sitting up in
+     bed. Her pulse was irregular; her temperature, subnormal. I am
+     glad to be able to assure you that Lady Wilmersley is at
+     present perfectly rational. She is, however, suffering from
+     hysterical amnesia complicated by aphasia, but I trust this is
+     only a temporary affection. At first she hesitated over the
+     simplest words, but before I left she could talk with tolerable
+     fluency.
+
+     "I asked Lady Wilmersley whether she wished to see you. She has
+     not only forgotten that she has a husband but has no very clear
+     idea as to what a husband is. In fact, she appears to have
+     preserved no precise impression of anything. She did not even
+     remember her own name. When I told it to her, she said it
+     sounded familiar, only that she did not associate it with
+     herself. Of you personally she has no recollection, although I
+     described you as accurately as I could. However, as your name
+     is the only thing she even dimly recalls, I hope that when you
+     see her, you will be able to help her bridge the gulf which
+     separates her from the past.
+
+     "She seemed distressed at her condition, so I told her that she
+     had been ill and that it was not uncommon for convalescents to
+     suffer temporarily from loss of memory. When I left her, she
+     was perfectly calm.
+
+     "She slept well last night, and this morning she has no
+     difficulty in expressing herself, but I do not allow her to
+     talk much as she is still weak.
+
+     "I quite understand the delicacy of your position and
+     sympathise with you most deeply. Although I am anxious to try
+     what effect your presence will have on Lady Wilmersley, the
+     experiment can be safely postponed till to-morrow afternoon.
+
+     "I trust the inquest will clear up the mystery which surrounds
+     the late Lord Wilmersley's death.
+
+    "Believe me,
+    "Sincerely yours,
+    "A. STUART-SMITH."
+
+Cyril stared at the letter aghast. If the girl herself had forgotten her
+identity, how could he hope to find out the truth? He did not even dare
+to instigate a secret inquiry--certainly not till the Geralton mystery
+had been cleared up. And she believed herself to be his wife! It was too
+awful!
+
+Cyril passed a sleepless night and the next morning found him still
+undecided as to what course to pursue. It was, therefore, a pale face
+and a preoccupied mien that he presented to the inspection of the
+county, which had assembled in force to attend his cousin's funeral.
+Never in the memory of man had such an exciting event taken place and
+the great hall in which the catafalque had been erected was thronged
+with men of all ages and conditions.
+
+In the state drawing-room Cyril stood and received the condolences and
+faced the curiosity of the county magnates.
+
+The ordeal was almost over, when the door was again thrown open and the
+butler announced, "Lady Upton."
+
+Leaning heavily on a gold-headed cane Lady Upton advanced majestically
+into the room.
+
+A sudden hush succeeded her entrance; every eye was riveted upon her.
+She seemed, however, superbly indifferent to the curiosity she aroused,
+and one felt, somehow, that she was not only indifferent but
+contemptuous.
+
+She was a tall woman, taller, although she stooped a little, than most
+of the men present. Notwithstanding her great age, she gave the
+impression of extraordinary vigour. Her face was long and narrow, with a
+stern, hawk-like nose, a straight, uncompromising mouth, and a
+protruding chin. Her scanty, white hair was drawn tightly back from her
+high forehead; a deep furrow separated her bushy, grey eyebrows and gave
+an added fierceness to her small, steel-coloured eyes. An antiquated
+bonnet perched perilously on the back of her head; her dress was quite
+obviously shabby; and yet no one could for a moment have mistaken her
+for anything but a truly great lady.
+
+Disregarding Cyril's outstretched hand, she deliberately raised her
+lorgnette and looked at him for a moment in silence.
+
+"Well! You are a Crichton at any rate," she said at last. Having given
+vent to this ambiguous remark, she waved her glasses, as if to sweep
+away the rest of the company, and continued: "I wish to speak to you
+alone."
+
+Her voice was deep and harsh and she made no effort to lower it.
+
+"So this was Anita Wilmersley's grandmother. What an old tartar!"
+thought Cyril.
+
+"It is almost time for the funeral to start," he said aloud and he tried
+to convey by his manner that he, at any rate, had no intention of
+allowing her to ride rough-shod over him.
+
+"I know," she snapped, "so hurry, please. These gentlemen will excuse
+us."
+
+"Certainly." "Of course." "We will wait in the hall." Cyril heard them
+murmur and, such was the force of the old lady's personality, that
+youths and grey beards jostled each other in their anxiety to get out of
+the room as quickly as possible.
+
+"Get me a chair," commanded Lady Upton. "No, not that one. I want to sit
+down, not lie down."
+
+With her stick she indicated a high, straight-backed chair, which had
+been relegated to a corner.
+
+Having seated herself, she took a pair of spectacles out of her reticule
+and proceeded to wipe them in a most leisurely manner.
+
+Cyril fidgeted impatiently.
+
+Finally, her task completed to her own satisfaction, she adjusted her
+glasses and crossed her hands over the top of her cane.
+
+"No news of my granddaughter, I suppose," she demanded.
+
+"None, I am sorry to say."
+
+"Anita is a fool, but I am certain--absolutely certain, mind you--that
+she did not kill that precious husband of hers, though I don't doubt he
+richly deserved it."
+
+"I am surprised that you of all people should speak of my cousin in that
+tone," said Cyril and he looked at her meaningly.
+
+"Of course, you believe what every one believes, that I forced Ann into
+that marriage. Stuff and nonsense! I merely pointed out to her that she
+could not do better than take him. She had not a penny to her name and
+after my death would have been left totally unprovided for. I have only
+my dower, as you know."
+
+"But, how could you have allowed a girl whose mind was affected to
+marry?"
+
+"Fiddlesticks! You don't believe that nonsense, do you? Newspaper
+twaddle, that is all that amounts to."
+
+"I beg your pardon, Arthur himself gave out that her condition was such
+that she was unable to see any one."
+
+"Impossible! He wrote to me quite frequently and never hinted at such a
+thing."
+
+"Nevertheless I assure you that is the case."
+
+"Then he is a greater blackguard than I took him to be----"
+
+"But did you not know that he kept her practically a prisoner here?"
+
+"Certainly not!"
+
+"And she never complained to you of his treatment of her?"
+
+"I once got a hysterical letter from her begging me to let her come back
+to me, but as the only reason she gave for wishing to leave her husband
+was that he was personally distasteful to her, I wrote back that as she
+had made her bed, she must lie on it."
+
+"And even after that appeal you never made an attempt to see Anita and
+find out for yourself how Arthur was treating her?"
+
+"I am not accustomed to being cross-questioned, Lord Wilmersley. I am
+accountable to no one but my God for what I have done or failed to do. I
+never liked Anita. She takes after her father, whom my daughter married
+without my consent. When she was left an orphan, I took charge of her
+and did my duty by her; but I never pretended that I was not glad when
+she married and, as she did so of her own free-will, I cannot see that
+her future life was any concern of mine."
+
+Cyril could hardly restrain his indignation. This proud, hard, selfish
+old woman had evidently never ceased to visit her resentment of her
+daughter's marriage on the child of that marriage. He could easily
+picture the loveless and miserable existence poor Anita must have led.
+Was it surprising that she should have taken the first chance that was
+offered her of escaping from her grandmother's thraldom? She had
+probably been too ignorant to realise what sort of a man Arthur
+Wilmersley really was and too innocent to know what she was pledging
+herself to.
+
+"I have come here to-day," continued Lady Upton, "because I considered
+it seemly that my granddaughter's only relative should put in an
+appearance at the funeral and also because I wanted you to tell me
+exactly what grounds the police have for suspecting Anita."
+
+Cyril related as succinctly as possible everything which had so far come
+to light. He, however, carefully omitted to mention his meeting with the
+girl on the train. As the latter could not be Anita Wilmersley, he felt
+that he was not called upon to inform Lady Upton of this episode.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed Lady Upton, when he had finished. "All I can say is,
+that Anita is quite incapable of firing a pistol at any one, even if it
+were thrust into her hand. You may not believe me, but that is because
+you don't know her. I do. She hasn't the spirit of a mouse. Unless
+Arthur had frightened her out of her wits, she would never have screwed
+up courage to leave him, and it would be just like her to crawl away in
+the night instead of walking out of the front door like a sensible
+person. Bah! I have no patience with such a spineless creature! You men,
+however, consider it an engaging feminine attribute for a woman to have
+neither character nor sense!" Lady Upton snorted contemptuously and
+glared at Cyril as if she held him personally responsible for the bad
+taste of his sex.
+
+As he made no answer to her tirade, she continued after a moment more
+calmly.
+
+"It seems to me highly improbable that Anita has been murdered; so I
+want you to engage a decent private detective who will work only for us.
+We must find her before the police do so. I take it for granted that you
+will help me in this matter and that you are anxious--although,
+naturally, not as anxious as I am--to prevent your cousin's widow from
+being arrested."
+
+"A woman who has been treated by her husband as Arthur seems to have
+treated Anita, is entitled to every consideration that her husband's
+family can offer her," replied Cyril. "I am already employing a
+detective and if he finds Anita I will communicate with you at once."
+
+"Good! Now remember that my granddaughter is perfectly sane; on the
+other hand, I think it advisable to keep this fact a secret for the
+present. Circumstantial evidence is so strongly against her that we may
+have to resort to the plea of insanity to save her neck. That girl has
+been a thorn in my flesh since the day she was born; but she shall not
+be hanged, if I can help it," said Lady Upton, shutting her mouth with
+an audible click.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE JEWELS
+
+
+As soon as the funeral was over, Cyril left Geralton. On arriving in
+London he recognised several reporters at the station. Fearing that they
+might follow him, he ordered his taxi to drive to the Carlton. There he
+got out and walking quickly through the hotel, he made his exit by a
+rear door. Having assured himself that he was not being observed, he
+hailed another taxi and drove to the nursing home.
+
+"Well, Mr. Thompkins," exclaimed the doctor, with ponderous
+facetiousness. "I am glad to be able to tell you that Mrs. Thompkins is
+much better."
+
+"And her memory?" faltered Cyril.
+
+"It's improving. She does not yet remember people or incidents, but she
+is beginning to recall certain places. For instance, I asked her
+yesterday if she had been to Paris. It suggested nothing to her, but
+this morning she told me with great pride that Paris was a city and that
+it had a wide street with an arch at one end. So you see she is
+progressing; only we must not hurry her."
+
+Cyril murmured a vague assent.
+
+"Of course," continued the doctor, "you must be very careful when you
+see Lady Wilmersley to restrain your emotions, and on no account to
+remind her of the immediate past. I hope and believe she will never
+remember it. On the other hand, I wish you to talk about those of her
+friends and relations for whom she has shown a predilection. Her memory
+must be gently stimulated, but on no account excited. Quiet, quiet is
+essential to her recovery."
+
+"But doctor--I must--it's frightfully important that my wife (he found
+himself calling her so quite glibly) should be told of a certain fact at
+once. If I wait even a day, it will be too late," urged Cyril.
+
+"And you have reason to suppose that this communication will agitate
+Lady Wilmersley?"
+
+"I--I fear so."
+
+"Then I can certainly not permit it. You don't seem to realise the
+delicate condition of her brain. Why, it might be fatal," insisted the
+doctor.
+
+Cyril felt as if Nemesis were indeed overtaking him.
+
+"Come, we will go to her," said the doctor, moving towards the door.
+"She is naturally a little nervous about seeing you, so we must not keep
+her waiting."
+
+But Cyril hung back. If he could not undeceive the poor girl, how could
+he enter her presence. To pose as the husband of a woman so as to enable
+her to escape arrest was excusable, but to impose himself on the
+credulity of an afflicted girl was absolutely revolting. If he treated
+her with even the most decorous show of affection, he would be taking a
+dastardly advantage of the situation. Yet if he behaved with too much
+reserve, she would conclude that her husband was a heartless brute. Her
+husband! The one person she had to cling to in the isolation to which
+she had awakened. It was horrible! Oh, why had he ever placed her in
+such an impossible position? Arrest would have been preferable. He was
+sure that she could easily have proved her innocence of whatever it was
+of which she was accused, and in a few days at the latest would have
+gone free without a stain on her character, while now, unless by some
+miracle this episode remained concealed, she was irredeemably
+compromised. He was a married man; she, for aught he knew to the
+contrary, might also be bound, or at all events have a fiance or lover
+waiting to claim her. How would he view the situation? How would he
+receive the explanation? Cyril shuddered involuntarily. Every minute the
+chances that her secret could be kept decreased. If she did not return
+to her friends while it was still possible to explain or account for the
+time of her absence, he feared she would never be able to return at all.
+Yes, it would take a miracle to save her now!
+
+"Well, Lord Wilmersley?"
+
+Cyril started. The doctor's tone was peremptory and his piercing eyes
+were fixed searchingly upon him. What excuse could he give for refusing
+to meet his supposed wife? He could think of none.
+
+"I must remind you, doctor," he faltered at last, "that my wife has
+lately detested me. I--I really don't think I had better see her--I--I
+am so afraid my presence will send her off her head again."
+
+The doctor's upper lip grew rigid and his eyes contracted angrily.
+
+"I have already assured you that she is perfectly sane. It is essential
+to her recovery that she should see somebody connected with her past
+life. I cannot understand your reluctance to meet Lady Wilmersley."
+
+"I--I am only thinking of the patient," Cyril murmured feebly.
+
+"The patient is my affair," snapped the doctor.
+
+What could he do? For an instant he was again tempted to tell
+Stuart-Smith the truth. He looked anxiously at the man. No, it was
+impossible. There was no loophole for escape. And after all, he
+reflected, if he had an opportunity of watching the girl, she might
+quite unconsciously by some act, word, or even by some subtle essence of
+her personality furnish him with a clue to her past. Every occupation
+leaves indelible marks, although it sometimes takes keen eyes to discern
+them. If the girl had been a seamstress, Cyril believed that he would be
+able by observing her closely to assure himself of the fact.
+
+"Very well," he said aloud. "If you are willing to assume the
+responsibility, I will go to my wife at once. But I insist on your being
+present at our meeting."
+
+"Certainly, if you wish it, but it is not at all necessary, I assure
+you," replied the doctor.
+
+A moment later Cyril, blushing like a schoolgirl, found himself in a
+large, white-washed room. Before him on a narrow, iron bedstead lay his
+mysterious _protegee_. Cyril caught his breath. He had forgotten how
+beautiful she was. Her red lips were slightly parted and the colour
+ebbed and flowed in her transparent cheeks. Ignoring the doctor, her
+eager glance sought Cyril and for a minute the two young people gazed at
+each other in silence. How young, how innocent she looked! How could any
+one doubt the candour of those star like eyes, thought Cyril.
+
+"Well, Mrs. Crichton," exclaimed Stuart-Smith, "I have brought you the
+husband you have been so undutiful as to forget. 'Love, honour, and
+obey, and above all remember,' I suggest as an amendment to the marriage
+vow."
+
+"Nurse has been reading me the marriage service," said the girl, with a
+quaint mixture of pride and diffidence. "I know all about it now; I
+don't think I'll forget again."
+
+"Of course not! And now that you have seen your husband, do you find
+that you remember him at all?"
+
+"Yes, a little. I know that I have seen you before," she answered,
+addressing Cyril.
+
+"I gather from your manner that you don't exactly dislike him, do you?"
+asked the doctor with an attempt at levity. "Your husband is so modest
+that he is afraid to remain in your presence till you have reassured him
+on this point."
+
+"I love him very much," was her astounding answer.
+
+Cyril's heart gave a bound. Did she realise what she had said? She
+certainly showed no trace of embarrassment, and although her eyes clung
+persistently to his, their expression of childlike simplicity was
+absolutely disarming.
+
+"Very good, very good, quite as it should be," exclaimed the doctor,
+evidently a little abashed by the frankness of the girl's reply. "That
+being the case, I will leave you two together to talk over old times,
+although they can't be very remote. I am sure, however, that when I see
+you again, you will be as full of reminiscences as an octogenarian,"
+chuckled the doctor as he left the room.
+
+Cyril and the girl were alone.
+
+An arm-chair had been placed near the bed, obviously for his reception,
+and after a moment's hesitation he took it. The girl did not speak, but
+continued to look at him unflinchingly. Cyril fancied she regarded him
+with something of the unquestioning reverence a small child might have
+for a beloved parent. His eyes sank before hers. Never had he felt so
+unworthy, so positively guilty. He racked his brains for something to
+say, but the doctor's restrictions seemed to bar every topic which
+suggested itself to him. If he only knew who she was! He glanced at her
+furtively. In the dim light of the shaded lamp he had not noticed that
+what he had supposed was her hair, was in reality a piece of black lace
+bound turbanwise about her head.
+
+"What are you wearing that bandage for?" he inquired eagerly. "Was your
+head hurt--my dear?" he added diffidently.
+
+"No--I--I hope you won't be angry--nurse said you would--but I couldn't
+help it. I really had to cut it off."
+
+"Cut what off?"
+
+"My hair." She hung her head as a naughty child might have done.
+
+"You cut off your hair? But why?" His voice sounded suddenly harsh.
+Strange that her first act had been to destroy one of the few things by
+which she could be identified. Was she as innocent as she seemed? Had
+she fooled them all, even the doctor? This amnesia, or whatever it was
+called, was it real, was it assumed? He wondered.
+
+"Oh, husband, I know it was wrong; but when I woke up and couldn't
+remember anything, I was so frightened, and then nurse brought me a
+looking-glass and the face I saw was so strange! Oh, it was so lonely
+without even myself! And then nurse said it was my hair. She said it
+sometimes happened when people have had a great shock or been very ill
+and so--I made her cut it off. She didn't want to--it wasn't her
+fault--I made her do it."
+
+"But what had happened to your hair?"
+
+"It had turned quite white, most of it." The girl shuddered. "Oh, it was
+horrid! I am sure you would not have liked it."
+
+Cyril, looking into her limpid eyes, felt his sudden suspicions unworthy
+of him.
+
+"You must grow a nice new crop of black curls, if you want to appease
+me," he answered.
+
+"Oh, do you like black hair?" Her disappointment was obvious.
+
+"Yes, don't you? Your hair was black before your illness."
+
+"I know it was--but I hate it! At all events, as long as I must wear a
+wig, I should like to have a nice yellow one; nurse tells me I can get
+them quite easily."
+
+"Dear me! But I don't think a wig nice at all."
+
+"Don't you?" Her mouth drooped at the corners. She seemed on the verge
+of tears.
+
+What an extraordinary child! he thought. But she mustn't cry--anything
+rather than that.
+
+"My dear, if you want a wig, you shall have one immediately. Tell your
+nurse to send to the nearest hairdresser for an assortment from which
+you can make your choice."
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you," she cried, clapping her hands. Her hands!
+Cyril had forgotten them for the moment, and it was through them that he
+had hoped to establish her identity. He looked at them searchingly. No
+ring encircled the wedding finger, nor did it show the depression which
+the constant wearing of one invariably leaves. The girl was evidently
+unmarried. Those long, slender, well-kept hands certainly did not look
+as if they could belong to a servant, but he reflected that a
+seamstress' work was not of a nature to spoil them. Only the forefinger
+of her left hand would probably bear traces of needle pricks. He leaned
+eagerly forward.
+
+"What are you looking at?" she asked.
+
+"At your hands, my dear," he tried to speak lightly.
+
+"What is the matter with them?" She held them out for his inspection.
+Yes, it was as he had expected--her forefinger was rough. She was
+Priscilla Prentice. Everything had fore-warned him of this conclusion,
+yet in his heart of hearts he had not believed it possible till this
+moment.
+
+"Don't you like my hands?" she asked, as she regarded them with anxious
+scrutiny, evidently trying to discover why they failed to find favour in
+the sight of her lord.
+
+"They are--" He checked himself; he had almost added--the prettiest
+hands in the world; but he mustn't say such things to her, not under the
+circumstances. "They are very pretty, only you have sewn so much that
+you have quite spoiled one little finger."
+
+"Sewn?" She seemed struck with the idea. "Sew? I should like to sew. I
+know I can."
+
+Further proof of her identity, if he needed it.
+
+"Well, you must get nurse to find you something on which to exercise
+your talents--only you must be careful not to prick yourself so much in
+future."
+
+"I will try, husband," she answered meekly, as she gazed solemnly at the
+offending finger.
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Do tell me something about my past life," said she. "I have been lying
+here wondering and wondering."
+
+"What do you want to know?"
+
+"Everything. In the first place, are my parents living? Oh, I hope so!"
+
+Here was a poser. Cyril had no idea whether her parents were alive or
+not, but even if they were, it would be impossible to communicate with
+them for the present, so he had better set her mind at rest by denying
+their existence.
+
+"No, my dear, you are an orphan, and you have neither brothers nor
+sisters," he added hastily. It was just as well to put a final stop to
+questions as to her family.
+
+"Nobody of my own--nobody?"
+
+"Nobody," he reiterated, but he felt like a brute.
+
+"Have I any children?" was her next question.
+
+Cyril started perceptibly.
+
+"No, no, certainly not," he was so embarrassed that he spoke quite
+sharply.
+
+"Oh, are you glad?" She stared at him in amazement and to his disgust
+Cyril felt himself turning crimson.
+
+"Now I'm sorry," she continued with a soft sigh. "I wish I had a baby. I
+remember about babies."
+
+"I--I like them, too," he hastened to assure her. Really this was worse
+than he had expected.
+
+"How long have we been married?" she demanded.
+
+"I have been married four years," he truthfully answered, hoping that
+that statement would satisfy her.
+
+"Fancy! We have been living together for four years! Isn't it awful that
+I can only remember you the very weeist little bit! But I will love,
+honour, and obey you--now that I know--I will indeed."
+
+"I am sure you will always do what is right," said Cyril with a sudden
+tightening of his throat. She looked so young, so innocent, so serious.
+Oh, if only----
+
+"Bah, don't waste too much love on me. I'm an unworthy beggar," he said
+aloud.
+
+"You are an unworthy husband? Oh!" She opened her eyes wide and stared
+at him in consternation. "But it doesn't say anything in the prayer-book
+about not loving unworthy husbands. I don't believe it makes any
+difference to the vow before God. Besides you don't look unworthy--are
+you sure you are?" she pleaded.
+
+Cyril's eyes fell before her agonised gaze.
+
+"I'll try to be worthy of you," he stammered.
+
+"Worthy of me?" she cried with a gay, little laugh. "I'm too silly and
+stupid now to be anything but a burden--I quite realise that--but the
+doctor thinks I will get better and in the meantime I will try to please
+you and do my duty."
+
+Poor baby, thought Cyril, the marriage vows she imagined she had taken
+seemed to weigh dreadfully on her conscience. Oh, if he could only
+undeceive her!
+
+A discreet knock sounded at the door.
+
+The nurse made her appearance.
+
+"The doctor thinks Mrs. Thompkins has talked enough for the present,"
+she said.
+
+Cyril rose with a curious mixture of relief and reluctance.
+
+"Well, this must be good-bye for to-day," he said, taking her small hand
+in his.
+
+She lifted up her face--simply as a child might have done. Slowly he
+leaned nearer to her, his heart was pounding furiously; the blood rushed
+to his temples.
+
+Suddenly he started back! He must not--he dare not----!
+
+For a moment he crushed her fingers to his lips; then turning abruptly,
+he strode towards the door.
+
+"You'll come to-morrow, won't you?" she cried.
+
+"Yes, to-morrow," he answered.
+
+"Early?"
+
+"As early as I can."
+
+"Good-bye, husband. I will be so lonely without you," she called after
+him, but he resolutely closed the door.
+
+At the foot of the stairs a nurse was waiting for him.
+
+"The doctor would like to speak to you for a moment," she said as she
+led the way to the consulting-room.
+
+"Well, how did you find Lady Wilmersley's memory; were you able to help
+her in any way to recall the past," inquired the doctor.
+
+Cyril was too preoccupied to notice that the other's manner was several
+degrees colder than it had been on his arrival.
+
+"I fear not." Cyril felt guiltily conscious that he was prevaricating.
+
+"You astonish me. I confess I am disappointed. Yes, very much so. But it
+will come back to her--I am sure it will."
+
+"I say, doctor, how long do you think my wife will have to remain here?"
+
+"No longer than she wishes to. She could be moved to-morrow, if
+necessary, but I advise waiting till the day after."
+
+"You are sure it won't hurt her?" insisted Cyril anxiously.
+
+"Quite. In fact, the sooner Lady Wilmersley resumes her normal life the
+better."
+
+"How soon will I be able to talk freely to her?" Cyril asked.
+
+"That depends largely on how she progresses, but not before a month at
+the earliest. By the way, Lord Wilmersley, I want you to take charge of
+Lady Wilmersley's bag. The contents were too valuable to be left about;
+so after taking out her toilet articles, the nurse brought it to me."
+
+"Ah! and--and what was in the bag?" asked Cyril fearfully.
+
+"Lady Wilmersley's jewels, of course."
+
+Jewels! This was terrible. If they were those belonging to his cousin,
+their description had been published in every paper in the kingdom. It
+was a miracle that Smith had not recognised them.
+
+"Of course," Cyril managed to stammer.
+
+The doctor went to a safe and taking out a cheap, black bag handed it to
+Cyril.
+
+"I should like you, please, to see if they are all there," he said.
+
+"That isn't the least necessary," Cyril hastened to assure him.
+
+"You would greatly oblige me by doing so."
+
+"I'm quite sure they are all right; besides if any are missing, they
+were probably stolen in Paris," said Cyril.
+
+"But I insist." Stuart-Smith was nothing if not persistent. His keen
+eyes had noted Cyril's agitation and his reluctance to open the bag made
+the doctor all the more determined to force him to do so.
+
+But Cyril was too quick for him. Seizing the bag, he made for the door.
+
+"I'll come back to-morrow," he cried over his shoulder, as he hurried
+unceremoniously out of the room and out of the house.
+
+A disreputable-looking man stood at the door of his waiting taxi and
+obsequiously opened it. Shouting his address to the driver, Cyril flung
+himself into the car and waved the beggar impatiently away.
+
+No sooner were they in motion than Cyril hastened to open the bag. A
+brown paper parcel lay at the bottom of it. He undid the string with
+trembling fingers. Yes, it was as he feared--a part, if not all, of the
+Wilmersley jewels lay before him.
+
+"Give me a penny, for the love of Gawd," begged a hoarse voice at his
+elbow. The beggar was still clinging to the step and his villainous face
+was within a foot of the jewels.
+
+Cyril felt himself grow cold with apprehension. The fellow knew who he
+was, and followed him. He was a detective!
+
+"A gen'lman like you could well spare a poor man a penny," the fellow
+whined, but there was a note of menace in his voice. Cyril tried to get
+a good look at him, but the light was too dim for him to distinguish his
+features clearly.
+
+Hastily covering the jewels, Cyril thrust a coin into the grimy hand.
+
+"Go!" he commanded, "go, or I'll call the police."
+
+The man sank out of sight.
+
+"My poor little girl, my poor little girl," murmured Cyril
+disconsolately, as he glanced once more at the incriminating jewels.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE TWO FRENCHMEN
+
+
+"You must be mad, Cyril! No sane man could have got into such a mess!"
+cried Guy Campbell, excitedly pounding his fat knee with his podgy hand.
+
+Cyril had been so disturbed by the finding of the Wilmersley jewels that
+he had at last decided that he must confide his troubles to some one. He
+realised that the time had come when he needed not only advice but
+assistance. He was now so convinced that he was being watched that he
+had fled to his club for safety. There, at all events, he felt
+comparatively safe from prying eyes, and it was there in a secluded
+corner that he poured his tale of woe into his friend's astonished ears.
+
+"You must be mad," the latter repeated.
+
+"If that is all you can find to say, I am sorry I told you," exclaimed
+Cyril irritably.
+
+"It's a jolly good thing you did! Why, you are no more fit to take care
+of yourself than a new-born baby." Guy's chubby face expressed such
+genuine concern that Cyril relaxed a little.
+
+"Perhaps I've been a bit of an ass, but really I don't see what else I
+could have done."
+
+"No, don't suppose you do," said Guy, regarding Cyril with pitying
+admiration.
+
+"Oh, don't rub it in! The question now is not what I ought to have done,
+but what am I to do now?"
+
+"What do you intend to do?"
+
+"I haven't the slightest idea. I want your advice."
+
+"Oh, no, you don't! Why, you wouldn't even listen to a sensible
+suggestion."
+
+"What do you call a sensible suggestion?" Cyril cautiously inquired.
+
+"To get the girl out of the nursing home and lose her. And it ought to
+be done P. D. Q., as the Americans say."
+
+"I shall certainly do nothing of the sort."
+
+"Exactly," cried Campbell triumphantly. "I know you, Lord Quixote; you
+have some crazy plan in your head. Out with it."
+
+"I haven't a plan, I tell you. Now as I am being followed----"
+
+"I can't believe you are," interrupted Guy.
+
+"I feel sure that that beggar I told you about was a detective."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"He was evidently waiting for me and I couldn't shake him off till he
+had had a good look at the jewels."
+
+"It is much more likely that he was waiting for a penny than for you,
+and beggars are usually persistent. I see no possible reason why the
+police should be shadowing you. It is your guilty conscience that makes
+you so suspicious."
+
+"You may be right; I certainly hope you are, but till I am sure of it, I
+don't dare to run the risk of being seen with Miss Prentice. As she is
+in no condition to go about alone, I have been worrying a good deal as
+to how to get her out of the Home; so I thought--it occurred to
+me--that--you are the person to do it."
+
+"Thanks, awfully! So you leave me the pleasant task of running off with
+a servant-girl who is 'wanted' by the police! You are really too
+unselfish!"
+
+"Miss Prentice is a lady," Cyril angrily asserted.
+
+"H'm," Campbell ejaculated skeptically. "That she is a beauty I do not
+doubt, and she has certainly played her cards very skilfully."
+
+"Don't you dare to speak of her like that," cried Cyril, clenching his
+fists and half starting to his feet.
+
+"By Jove, old man! You're smitten with her," exclaimed Campbell, staring
+aghast at his friend.
+
+Cyril flushed darkly under his tan.
+
+"Certainly not, but I have the greatest respect for this unfortunate
+young woman, and don't you forget it again."
+
+Campbell smiled incredulously.
+
+"Oh, very well! Believe what you like, but I didn't think you were the
+sort of man who never credits a fellow with disinterested motives, if he
+behaves half-way decently to a woman."
+
+"Steady now, Cyril. Don't let's quarrel. You mustn't take offence so
+easily. I have never seen the young lady, remember. And you know I will
+help you even against my better judgment."
+
+"You're a good chap, Guy."
+
+"Thanks! Now let us first of all consider Miss Prentice's case
+dispassionately. I want to be sure of my facts; then I may be able to
+form some conjecture as to why Wilmersley was murdered and how the
+jewels came into Miss Prentice's possession. You tell me that it has
+been proved that she really left Geralton on the afternoon before the
+murder?"
+
+"Yes; the carrier swears he drove her into Newhaven and put her down
+near the station. Further than that they have luckily not been able to
+trace her."
+
+"Now your idea is that Miss Prentice, having in some way managed to
+secure a car, returned to Geralton that evening and got into the castle
+through the library window?"
+
+"No, I doubt if she entered the castle. I can think of no reason why she
+should have done so," said Cyril.
+
+"In that case, how do you account for her injuries? Who could have
+flogged her except your charming cousin?"
+
+"I hadn't thought of that!" exclaimed Cyril.
+
+"Granting that she is Priscilla Prentice, the only hypothesis I can
+think of which explains her predicament is this: Having planned to
+rescue her mistress, she was only waiting for a favourable opportunity
+to present itself. The doctor's visit determined her to act at once. I
+agree with you that to re-enter Geralton was not her original intention,
+but while waiting under the library window for Lady Wilmersley to join
+her, she hears Wilmersley ill-treating his wife, so she climbs in and
+rushes to the latter's assistance."
+
+"Yes, yes," assented Cyril with shining eyes.
+
+"But she is overpowered by Wilmersley," continued Campbell, warming to
+his theme, "who, insane with rage, flogs her unmercifully. Then Lady
+Wilmersley, fearing the girl will be killed, seizes the pistol, which is
+lying on the desk, and fires at her husband----"
+
+"I am convinced that that is just what happened," cried Cyril.
+
+"Don't be too sure of it; still, it seems to me that that theory hangs
+together pretty well," Campbell complacently agreed. "Of course, neither
+woman contemplated murder. Wilmersley's death completely unnerved them.
+If the gardener's wife heard a cry coming from the car, it is possible
+that one or the other had an attack of hysterics. Now about the
+jewels--I believe Miss Prentice took charge of them, either because Lady
+Wilmersley was unfit to assume such a responsibility or because they
+agreed that she could the more easily dispose of them. I think that Miss
+Prentice's hurried trip to town was undertaken not in order to avoid
+arrest, but primarily to raise money, of which they must have had great
+need, and possibly also to rejoin her mistress, who, now that we know
+that she made her escape in a car, is probably hiding somewhere either
+in London itself or in its vicinity."
+
+"Guy, you are a wonder. You have thought of everything," cried Cyril
+admiringly.
+
+"Of course, I may be quite wrong. These are only suppositions,
+remember," Campbell modestly reminded him. "By the way, what have you
+done with the jewels? I can't believe that you are in any danger of
+arrest, but if there is the remotest chance of such a thing, it wouldn't
+look very well if they were found in your possession."
+
+"I had thought of that. I was even afraid that my rooms might be
+searched in my absence, so I took them with me."
+
+"They are here?"
+
+"Yes, in my pocket. I have hidden the bag and to-night I mean to burn
+it."
+
+"Your pocket is not a very safe repository."
+
+"Exactly. That is why I want you to take charge of them," said Cyril.
+
+"Oh, very well," sighed Campbell, with mock resignation. "In for a
+penny, in for a pound. I shall probably end by being arrested as a
+receiver of stolen property! But now we must consider what we had better
+do with Miss Prentice."
+
+"I think I shall hire a cottage in the country for her."
+
+"If you did that, the police would find her immediately. The only safe
+hiding-place is a crowd."
+
+"You think so?" Cyril looked doubtful.
+
+"I am sure of it. Now let me see: Where is she least likely to attract
+attention? It must be a place where you could manage to see her without
+being compromised, and, if possible, without being observed. I have it!
+A hotel. The Hotel George is the very place. In a huge caravansary like
+that all sorts and conditions of people jostle each other without
+exciting comment. Besides, the police are less likely to look among the
+guests of such an expensive hotel for a poor maid servant or in such a
+public resort for a fugitive from justice."
+
+"You are right!" cried Cyril enthusiastically.
+
+"But in her present condition," continued Campbell, "I don't see how she
+could remain there alone."
+
+"Certainly not. She must have some woman with her."
+
+"Exactly. But what trustworthy woman could you get to undertake such a
+task? Perhaps one of the nurses----"
+
+"No," Cyril hastily interrupted him. "When she leaves the nursing home,
+all trace of her must be lost. At any moment the police may discover
+that a woman whom I have represented to be my wife has been a patient
+there. That will naturally arouse their suspicions and they will do
+their utmost to discover who it is that I am protecting with my name.
+No, a nurse would never do. For one thing, she would feel called upon to
+report to the doctor."
+
+"You might bribe her not to do so," suggested Guy.
+
+"I shouldn't dare to trust to an absolutely unknown quantity. Oh, if I
+only knew a respectable woman on whom I could rely! I would pay her a
+small fortune for her services."
+
+"I know somebody who might do," said Campbell. "Her name is Miss Trevor
+and she used to be my sister's governess. She is too old to teach now
+and I fancy has a hard time to make both ends meet. The only trouble is
+that she is so conscientious that she would rather starve than be mixed
+up in anything she did not consider perfectly honourable and above
+board. If I told her that she was to chaperon a young lady whom the
+police were looking for, she would be so indignant that I doubt if she
+would ever speak to me again."
+
+"Why tell her?" insinuated Cyril.
+
+"It doesn't seem decent to inveigle her by false representations into
+taking a position which she would never dream of accepting if she knew
+the truth."
+
+"I will pay her L200 a year as long as she lives, if she will look after
+Miss Prentice till this trouble is over. Even if the worst happens and
+the girl is discovered, she can truthfully plead ignorance of the
+latter's identity," urged Cyril.
+
+"True, and two hundred a year is good pay even for unpleasant notoriety.
+Yes, on the whole I think I am justified in accepting the offer for her.
+But now we must consider what fairy tale we are going to concoct for her
+benefit."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," sighed Cyril wearily.
+
+"Imagination giving out, or conscience awakening--which is it?" asked
+Guy.
+
+"Don't chaff!"
+
+"Sorry, old man; but joking aside, we must really decide what we are to
+tell Miss Trevor. You can no longer pose as Miss Prentice's husband----"
+
+"Why not?" interrupted Cyril sharply.
+
+"What possible excuse have you for doing so, now that she is to leave
+the doctor's care?"
+
+"I am sure it would have a very bad effect on Miss Prentice's health, if
+I were to tell her that she is not my wife."
+
+"H'm, h'm!" Campbell regarded his friend quizzically.
+
+"Remember, she is completely cut off from the past," urged Cyril; "she
+has neither friend nor relation to cling to. I am the one person in the
+world she believes she has a claim on. I can't undeceive her. Besides,
+the doctor's orders are that she shall not be in any way agitated."
+
+"Well, that settles that question. Now what explanation will you give
+Miss Trevor for not living with your wife?"
+
+"I shall say that her state of health renders it inadvisable for the
+present."
+
+"What shall she be called?" asked Campbell.
+
+"I think we had better stick to Thompkins. She is accustomed to that.
+Only we will spell it Tomkyns and change the Christian name to John."
+
+"But won't she confide what she believes to be her real name to Miss
+Trevor?" asked Guy anxiously.
+
+"I think not--not if I tell her I don't wish her to do so. She has a
+great idea of wifely obedience, I assure you."
+
+"Well," laughed Guy, "that is a virtue which so few real wives possess
+that it seems a pity it should be wasted on a temporary one. And now,
+Cyril, we must decide on the best way and the best time for transferring
+Miss Prentice to the hotel."
+
+"Unless something unexpected occurs to change our plans, I think she had
+better be moved the day after to-morrow. I advise your starting as early
+as possible before the world is well awake. But I leave all details to
+you. You are quite capable of managing the situation. Only be sure you
+are not followed, that is all I ask."
+
+"I don't expect we shall be, but if we are, I think I can promise to
+outwit them," Campbell assured him.
+
+"I shall never forget what you are doing for me, Guy."
+
+"You had better not. I expect you to erect a monument commemorating my
+virtues and my folly. Now I must be off. Where are those stolen goods of
+which I am to become the custodian?"
+
+"Here they are. I have done them up in several parcels, so that they are
+not too bulky to carry. As I don't want the police to know how intimate
+we are, it is better that we should not be seen together in public for
+the present."
+
+"I think you are over-cautious. But perhaps," agreed Campbell, "we might
+as well meet here till all danger is over."
+
+A few minutes later Cyril also left the club. His talk with Campbell had
+been a great relief to him. As he walked briskly along, he felt
+calm--almost cheerful.
+
+"Isn't this Lord Wilmersley?" inquired a deep voice at his elbow.
+
+Turning quickly Cyril recognised Inspector Griggs.
+
+For a moment Cyril was too startled to speak. Then, pulling himself
+together, he exclaimed with an attempt at heartiness:
+
+"Why, Inspector! I thought you were in Newhaven. What has brought you to
+town?"
+
+"I only left Newhaven this afternoon, but I think my work there is
+finished--for the present at least."
+
+"Really? Have you already solved the mystery?"
+
+"No indeed, but the clue now leads away from Geralton."
+
+"Clue? What clue?" Cyril found it difficult to control the tremor in his
+voice.
+
+"If you'll excuse me, my lord, I had better keep my suppositions to
+myself till I am able to verify them."
+
+The man suspected him! But why? What had he discovered? Cyril felt he
+could not let him go before he had ascertained exactly what he had to
+fear. It was so awful, this fighting in the dark.
+
+"If you have half an hour to spare, come to my rooms. They are only a
+few doors away." Cyril was convinced that the Inspector knew where he
+was staying and had been lying in wait for him. He thought it best to
+pretend that he felt above suspicion.
+
+"Thank you, my lord."
+
+A few minutes later they were sitting before a blazing fire, the
+Inspector puffing luxuriously at a cigar and sipping from time to time a
+glass of whiskey and soda which Peter had reluctantly placed at his
+elbow. Peter, as he himself would have put it, "did not hold with the
+police," and thought his master was sadly demeaning himself by
+fraternising with a member of that calling.
+
+"I quite understand your reluctance to talk about a case," said Cyril,
+reverting at once to the subject he had in mind; "but as this one so
+nearly concerns my family and consequently myself, I think I have a
+right to your confidence. I am most anxious to know what you have
+discovered. This mystery is weighing on me. I assure you, you can rely
+on my discretion."
+
+"Well, my lord, it's a bit unprofessional, but seeing it's you, I don't
+mind if I do. It's the newspaper men, I am afraid of."
+
+"I shall not mention what you tell me to any one except possibly to one
+friend," Cyril hastily assured him.
+
+"Thank you, my lord. You see I may be all wrong, so I don't want to say
+too much till I can prove my case."
+
+"I understand that," said Cyril; "and this clue that you are
+following--what is it?" he inquired with breathless impatience.
+
+"The car, my lord," answered the Inspector, settling himself deeper in
+his chair, while his eyes began to gleam with suppressed excitement.
+
+"You have found the car in which her ladyship made her escape?"
+
+"I don't know about that yet, but I have found the car that stood at the
+foot of the long lane on the night of the murder."
+
+"Remarkable!"
+
+"Oh, that's not so very wonderful," protested the Inspector with an
+attempt at modesty, but he was evidently bursting with pride in his
+achievement.
+
+"How did you do it? What had you to go on?" asked Cyril with genuine
+amazement.
+
+"I began my search by trying to find out what cars had been seen in the
+neighbourhood of Geralton on the night of the murder--by neighbourhood I
+mean a radius of twenty-five miles. I found, as I expected, that
+half-past eleven not being a favourite hour for motoring, comparatively
+few had been seen or heard. Most of these turned out to be the property
+of gentlemen who had no difficulty in proving that they had been used
+only for perfectly legitimate purposes. There remained, however, two
+cars of which I failed to get a satisfactory account. One belongs to a
+Mr. Benedict, a young man who owns a place about ten miles from
+Geralton, and who seems to have spent the evening motoring wildly over
+the country. He pretends he had no particular object, and as he is a bit
+queer, it may be true. The other car is the property of the landlord of
+the Red Lion Inn, a very respectable hotel in Newhaven. I then sent two
+of my men to examine these cars and report if either of them has a new
+tire, for the gardener's wife swore that the car she heard had burst
+one. Mr. Benedict's tires all showed signs of wear, but the Red Lion car
+has a brand new one!"
+
+"Bravo! That is a fine piece of work."
+
+"Oh, that is nothing," replied the Inspector, vainly trying to suppress
+a self-satisfied smile.
+
+"Did you find any further evidence against this hotel-keeper? What
+connection had he with the castle?" inquired Cyril.
+
+"He knew Lord Wilmersley slightly, but says he has never even seen her
+Ladyship. And I am inclined to believe him."
+
+"In that case what part does he play in the affair?"
+
+"None, I fancy. You see he keeps the car for the convenience of his
+guests and on the day in question it had been hired by two young
+Frenchmen, who were out in it from two o'clock till midnight."
+
+"Frenchmen! But how could they have had anything to do with the
+tragedy?"
+
+"That remains to be seen. So far all I have been able to find out about
+these two men is that they landed in Newhaven ten days before the
+murder. They professed to be brothers and called themselves Joseph and
+Paul Durand. They seemed to be amply provided with money and wanted the
+best the hotel had to offer. Joseph Durand appeared a decent sort of
+fellow, but the younger one drank. The waiters fancy that the elder man
+used to remonstrate with him occasionally, but the youngster paid very
+little attention to him."
+
+"You say they _professed_ to be brothers. Why do you doubt their
+relationship?"
+
+"For one reason, the elder one did not understand a word of English,
+while the young one spoke it quite easily, although with a strong
+accent. That is, he spoke it with a strong accent when he was sober, but
+when under the influence of liquor this accent disappeared."
+
+"And what has become of the pair?"
+
+"They left Newhaven the morning after the murder. Their departure was
+very hurried, and the landlord is sure that the day before they had no
+intention of leaving."
+
+"Where did they go to?"
+
+"They took the boat to Dieppe. The porter saw them off."
+
+"Have you been able to trace them farther?"
+
+"Not yet, my lord, but I have sent one of my men to try and follow them
+up, and I have notified the continental police to be on the look-out for
+them. It's a pity that they have three days' start of us."
+
+"But as you have an accurate description of both, I should imagine that
+they will soon be found."
+
+"It's through the young 'un they'll be caught, if they are caught."
+
+"Why, is he deformed in any way?"
+
+"No, my lord, but they tell me he is abnormally small for a man of his
+age, for he must be twenty-two or three at the very least. The landlord
+believes that he is a jockey who had got into bad habits, and that the
+elder man is his trainer or backer. Of course, he may be right, but the
+waiters pooh-pooh the idea. They insist that the boy is a gentleman-born
+and servants are pretty good judges of such things, though you mightn't
+think it, my lord."
+
+"I can quite believe it," assented Cyril. "But then there are many
+gentlemen jockeys."
+
+"So there are. I only wish I had seen the little fellow, for they all
+agree that there was something about him which would make it impossible
+for any one who had once met him ever to forget him again."
+
+"That certainly is a most unusual quality."
+
+"So it is, my lord. They also tell me that if his eyes had not been so
+bloodshot, and if he had not looked so drawn and haggard, he'd have been
+an extraordinarily good-looking chap."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes. It seems that he has large blue eyes, a fine little nose, not a
+bit red as you would expect, and as pretty a mouth as ever you'd see.
+His hair is auburn and he wears it rather long, which I don't think he'd
+do if he were a jockey. Besides, his skin is as fine as a baby's, though
+its colour is a grey-white with only a spot of red in the middle of each
+cheek."
+
+"He must be a queer-looking beggar!"
+
+"That's just it. That's why I think we shall soon spot him."
+
+"What did the elder Durand look like?"
+
+"The ordinary type of Frenchman. He is about twenty-eight years old,
+medium height, and inclined to be stout. He has dark hair, a little thin
+at the temples, dark moustache, and dark eyes. His features are
+nondescript."
+
+"On the night of the murder you say they returned to the hotel at about
+midnight?"
+
+"Somewhere around then."
+
+"Was their behaviour in any way noticeable?"
+
+"The porter was so sleepy that he can't remember much about it. He had
+an impression that they came in arm in arm and went quietly upstairs."
+
+"They were alone?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But what do you think they had done with Lady Wilmersley?"
+
+"But, my lord, you didn't expect that they would bring her to the hotel,
+did you? If they were her friends, their first care would be for her
+safety. If they were not--well, we will have to look for another victim,
+that is all."
+
+"You think that there is that possibility?" inquired Cyril eagerly.
+
+"I do, my lord." The Inspector rose ponderously to his feet. "I mustn't
+keep you any longer." He hesitated a moment, eyeing Cyril doubtfully.
+There was evidently still something he wished to say.
+
+Cyril had also risen to his feet and stood leaning against the
+mantelpiece, idly wondering at the man's embarrassment.
+
+"I trust her Ladyship has quite recovered?" the Inspector finally
+blurted out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE INSPECTOR INTERVIEWS CYRIL
+
+
+Cyril felt the muscles of his face stiffen. He had for days been
+dreading some such question, yet now that it had finally come, it had
+found him completely unprepared. He must parry it if he could. He must
+fight for her till the last ditch.
+
+But how devilishly clever of Griggs to have deferred his attack until he
+was able to catch his adversary off his guard! Cyril looked keenly but,
+he hoped, calmly at the Inspector. Their eyes met, but without the clash
+which Cyril had expected. The man's expression, although searching, was
+not hostile; in fact, there was something almost apologetic about his
+whole attitude. Griggs was not sure of his ground, that much was
+obvious. He knew something, he probably suspected more, but there was
+still a chance that he might be led away from the trail.
+
+Cyril's mind worked with feverish rapidity. He realised that it was
+imperative that his manner should appear perfectly natural. But how
+would an innocent man behave? He must first decide what his position,
+viewed from Griggs's standpoint, really was. He must have a definite
+conception of his part before he attempted to act it.
+
+The Inspector evidently knew that a young woman, who bore Cyril's name,
+had been taken ill on the Newhaven train. He was no doubt also aware
+that she was now under the care of Dr. Stuart-Smith. But if the
+Inspector really believed the girl to be his wife, these facts were in
+no way incriminating. Yet the man smelt a rat! He must, therefore, know
+more of the truth. No, for if he had discovered that the girl was not
+Lady Wilmersley, Cyril was sure that Griggs would not have broached the
+subject so tentatively. What then had aroused the man's suspicions? Ah,
+he had it! He had told every one who inquired about his wife that she
+was still on the continent. Peter, also, obeying his orders, had
+repeated the same story in the servants' hall. And, of course, Griggs
+knew that they were both lying. No wonder he was suspicious!
+
+"She is much better, thank you. But how did you hear of her illness? I
+have not mentioned it to any one." Cyril flattered himself that his
+voice had exactly the right note of slightly displeased surprise. He
+watched the Inspector breathlessly. Had he said the right thing? Yes,
+for Griggs's expression relaxed and he answered with a smile that was
+almost deprecating:
+
+"I, of course, saw the report of the man who searched the train, and I
+was naturally surprised to find that the only lady who had taken her
+ticket in Newhaven was Mrs. Cyril Crichton. In a case like this we have
+to verify everything, so when I discovered that the gentleman who was
+with her, was undoubtedly your Lordship, it puzzled me a good deal why
+both you and your valet should be so anxious to keep her Ladyship's
+presence in England a secret."
+
+"Yes, yes, it must have astonished you, and I confess I am very sorry
+you found me out," said Cyril. He had his cue now. The old lie must be
+told once more. "Her Ladyship is suffering from a--a nervous affection."
+He hesitated purposely. "In fact--she has just left an insane asylum,"
+he finally blurted out.
+
+"You mean that the present Lady Wilmersley--not the Dowager--?" The
+Inspector was too surprised to finish his sentence.
+
+"Yes, it's queer, isn't it, that both should be afflicted in the same
+way," agreed Cyril, calmly lighting a cigarette.
+
+"Most remarkable," ejaculated Griggs, staring fixedly at Cyril.
+
+"As the doctors believe that her Ladyship will completely recover, I
+didn't want any one to know that she had ever been unbalanced. But I
+might have known that it was bound to leak out."
+
+"We are no gossips, my lord; I shall not mention what you have told me
+to any one."
+
+"Thanks. But if the whole police department----?"
+
+"They have got too much to do, to bother about what doesn't concern
+them. I don't believe a dozen of them noticed that in searching the
+train for one Lady Wilmersley, they had inadvertently stumbled on
+another, and as the latter had nothing to do with their case, they
+probably dismissed the whole thing from their minds. I know them!"
+
+"But you--" suggested Cyril.
+
+"Well, you see, it's different with me. It's the business of my men to
+bring me isolated facts, but I have to take a larger view of
+the--the--the--ah--possibilities. I have got to think of
+everything--suspect every one."
+
+"Even me?" asked Cyril quickly.
+
+"Your Lordship would have no difficulty in proving an alibi."
+
+"So you took the trouble to find that out?"
+
+"Of course, my lord."
+
+"But why? I should really like to know what could have led you to
+suspect me?"
+
+"I didn't suspect you, my lord. I only thought of you. You see, Lady
+Wilmersley must have had an accomplice and you must acknowledge that it
+was a strange coincidence that your Lordship should have happened to
+pass through Newhaven at that particular moment, especially as the
+Newhaven route is not very popular with people of your means."
+
+"Quite so. As a matter of fact, I had no intention of taking it, but I
+missed the Calais train."
+
+"I see," Griggs nodded his head as if the explanation fully satisfied
+him. "Would you mind, my lord," he continued after a brief pause, "if,
+now that we are on the subject, I asked you a few questions? There are
+several points which are bothering me. Of course, don't answer, if you
+had rather not."
+
+"You mean if my answers are likely to incriminate me. Well, I don't
+think they will, so fire ahead," drawled Cyril, trying to express by his
+manner a slight weariness of the topic.
+
+"Thank you, my lord." Griggs looked a trifle abashed, but he persisted.
+"I have been wondering how it was that you met her Ladyship in Newhaven,
+if you had no previous intention of taking that route?"
+
+Cyril was ready with his answer.
+
+"It was quite accidental. The fact is, her Ladyship escaped from an
+asylum near Fontainebleau over a fortnight ago. I scoured France for her
+but finally gave up the search, and leaving the French detectives to
+follow up any clue that might turn up, I decided almost on the spur of
+the moment to run over to England. I was never more astonished than when
+I found her on the train."
+
+"Why had she gone to Newhaven?" asked Griggs.
+
+"I have no idea."
+
+"Nor how long she stayed there?"
+
+"No. She was rather excited and I asked no questions."
+
+"Had she ever before visited Newhaven to your knowledge?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Then she did not know the late Lord Wilmersley?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Was there any reason for this?" inquired the detective, looking keenly
+at Cyril.
+
+"I was never very friendly with my cousin, and we sailed for South
+Africa immediately after our marriage. Neither of us has been home since
+then."
+
+"I must find out where she spent the night of the murder," murmured the
+Inspector. He seemed to have forgotten Cyril's presence.
+
+"If you think her Ladyship had anything to do with the tragedy, I assure
+you, you are on the wrong track," cried Cyril, forgetting for a moment
+his pose of polite aloofness. "She has never been at all violent. It is
+chiefly her memory that is affected. Until the last few days what she
+did one minute, she forgot the next."
+
+"You think, therefore, that she would not be able to tell me how she
+spent her time in Newhaven?"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+"That is most unfortunate! By the way, how has she taken the news of
+Lord Wilmersley's murder?"
+
+"She has not been told of it. She does not even know that he is dead."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"I see I must explain her case more fully, so that you may be able to
+understand my position. Her Ladyship's mind became affected about six
+months ago, owing to causes into which I need not enter now. Since her
+arrival in England her improvement has been very rapid. Her memory is
+growing stronger, but it is essential that it should not be taxed for
+the present. The doctor assures me that if she is kept perfectly quiet
+for a month or so, she will recover completely. That is why I want her
+to remain in absolute seclusion. An incautious word might send her off
+her balance. She must be protected from people, and I will protect her,
+I warn you of that. Six weeks from now, if all goes well, you can
+cross-question her, if you still think it necessary, but at present I
+not only forbid it, but I will do all in my power to prevent it. Of
+course," continued Cyril more calmly, "I have neither the power nor the
+desire to hamper you in the exercise of your profession; so if you doubt
+my statements just ask Dr. Stuart-Smith whether he thinks her Ladyship
+has ever been in a condition when she might have committed murder. He
+will laugh at you, I am sure."
+
+"I don't doubt it, my lord; all the same--" Griggs hesitated.
+
+"All the same you would like to know what her Ladyship did on the night
+of the murder. Well, find out, if you can. I assure you that although
+our motives differ, my curiosity equals yours."
+
+"Thank you, my lord. I shall certainly do my best to solve the riddle,"
+said the Inspector as he bowed himself out.
+
+Cyril sank wearily into a chair. The interview had been a great strain,
+and yet he felt that in a way it had been a relief also. He flattered
+himself that he had played his cards rather adroitly. For now that he
+had found out exactly how much the police knew, he might possibly
+circumvent them. Of course, it was merely a question of days, perhaps
+even of hours, before Griggs would discover that the girl was not his
+wife; for the Inspector was nothing if not thorough and if he once began
+searching Newhaven for evidence of her stay there, Cyril was sure that
+it would not take him long to establish her identity. Oh! If he only had
+Griggs fighting on his side, instead of the little pompous fool of a
+Judson! By the way, what could have become of Judson? It was now two
+full days since he had left Geralton. He certainly ought to have
+reported himself long before this. Well, it made no difference one way
+or the other. He was a negligible quantity. Cyril had no time to think
+of him now. His immediate concern was to find a way by which Priscilla
+could be surreptitiously removed from the nursing home, before the
+police had time to collect sufficient evidence to warrant her arrest.
+But how was it to be done? Cyril sat for half an hour staring at the
+smouldering fire before he was able to hit on a plan that seemed to him
+at all feasible.
+
+Going to the writing-table, he rapidly covered three sheets and thrust
+them into an envelope.
+
+"Peter," he called.
+
+"Yes, sir," answered a sleepy voice.
+
+"You are to take this letter at half-past seven o'clock to-morrow
+morning to Mr. Campbell's rooms and give it into his own hands. If he is
+still asleep, wake him up. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Very well. You can go to bed now----"
+
+It was lucky, thought Cyril, that he had taken Guy into his confidence.
+He was a good chap, Guy was! How he must hate the whole business! For,
+notwithstanding his careless manner, he was _au fond_ a conventional
+soul. It was really comical to think of that impeccable person as a
+receiver of stolen property. What would he do with the jewels, Cyril
+wondered. Ah, that reminded him of the bag. He must get rid of it at
+once. Poking the fire into a blaze, he cautiously locked the two doors
+which connected his rooms with the rest of the house. Then, having
+assured himself that the blinds were carefully drawn and that no one was
+secreted about the premises, he knelt down before the empty fireplace in
+his bedroom and felt up the chimney.
+
+The bag was no longer there!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A PERILOUS VENTURE
+
+
+In the grey dawn of the following morning Cyril was already up and
+dressed. The first thing he did was to detach two of the labels affixed
+to his box and place them carefully in his pocketbook. That
+accomplished, he had to wait with what patience he could muster until
+Peter returned with Campbell's reply. Cyril perused it eagerly. It was
+evidently satisfactory, for he heaved a sigh of relief as he sat down to
+breakfast. His eyes, however, never left the clock and it had hardly
+finished striking nine before our hero was out of the house. No
+suspicious person was in sight, but Cyril, was determined to take no
+chances. He therefore walked quickly ahead, then turned so abruptly that
+he would necessarily have surprised any one who was following him. This
+he did many times till he reached Piccadilly Circus, where, with a last
+look behind him, he bolted into a shop. There he asked for a small
+travelling box suitable for a lady. Having chosen one, he took his
+labels out of his pocket.
+
+"Have these pasted on the box," he ordered.
+
+The man's face expressed such amazement that Cyril hastened to remark
+that the box was intended for a bride who did not wish to be identified
+as such by the newness of her baggage. A comprehending and sympathetic
+smile proved that the explanation was satisfactory. A few minutes later
+Cyril drove off with his new acquisition. The next purchase was a
+handsomely-fitted lady's dressing-bag, which he took to Trufitt's and
+filled with such toilet accessories as a much-befrizzled young person
+designated as indispensable to a lady's comfort. On leaving there he
+stopped for a moment at his bank.
+
+Cyril now metaphorically girded his loins and summoning up all his
+courage, plunged into a shop in Bond Street, where he remembered his
+mother used to get what she vaguely termed "her things." Among the maze
+of frou-frous he stood in helpless bewilderment, till an obsequious
+floor-walker came to his rescue. Cyril explained that he had a box
+outside which he wanted to fill then and there with a complete outfit
+for a young lady. To his relief the man showed no surprise at so unusual
+a request and he was soon ensconced in the blessed seclusion of a
+fitting room. There the box was hurriedly packed with a varied
+assortment of apparel, which he devoutly prayed would meet with
+Priscilla's approval. It was not half-past eleven. The doctor must have
+left the nursing home by this time, thought Cyril.
+
+Not wishing to attract attention by driving up to the door, he told the
+chauffeur to stop when they were still at some distance away from it.
+There he got out and looked anxiously about him. To his relief he
+recognised Campbell's crimson pate hovering in the distance. So far,
+thought Cyril triumphantly, there had been no hitch in his
+carefully-laid plans.
+
+"You are to wait here," he said, turning to the driver, "for a lady and
+a red-haired gentleman. Now understand, no one but a red-haired man is
+to enter this car. Here is a pound, and if you don't make a mess of
+things, the other gentleman will give you two more."
+
+"All right, sir; thank you, sir," exclaimed the astonished chauffeur,
+greedily pocketing the gold piece.
+
+Cyril was certain that he had not been followed, and there was no sign
+that the nursing home was being watched, but that did not reassure him.
+Those curtained windows opposite might conceal a hundred prying eyes.
+
+When he was ushered into Miss Prentice's room, he was surprised to find
+her already up and dressed. She held a mirror in one hand and with the
+other was arranging a yellow wig, which encircled her face like an
+aureole. Cyril could hardly restrain a cry of admiration. He had thought
+her lovely before, but now her beauty was absolutely startling.
+
+On catching sight of him she dropped the mirror and ran to him with
+outstretched hands.
+
+"Oh! I am so glad you have come. How do you like my hair?" she exclaimed
+all in one breath.
+
+Cyril heroically disengaged himself from her soft, clinging clasp and
+not daring to allow his eyes to linger on her upturned face, he surveyed
+the article in question judicially.
+
+"For a wig it's not bad. I can't say, however, that I like anything
+artificial," he asserted mendaciously.
+
+"You prefer my own hair!" she cried, and the corners of her mouth began
+to droop in a way he had already begun to dread. "Oh! what shall I do?
+Nurse tells me it will take ages and ages for it to grow again."
+
+"There, there, my dear, it's all right. You look lovely--" he paused
+abruptly.
+
+"Oh, do I?" she cried, beaming with delight. "I am so glad you think
+so!"
+
+"It doesn't matter what I think."
+
+"But it does," she insisted.
+
+Cyril turned resolutely away. This sort of thing must stop, he
+determined.
+
+"I would like to ask you one thing." She hesitated a moment. "Are we
+very poor?"
+
+"No, why?"
+
+"Then I could afford to have some pretty clothes?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad! I can't bear the ones I have on. I can't think why I
+ever bought anything so ugly. I shall throw them away as soon as I can
+get others. By the way, where is my box? Nurse tells me that I arrived
+here with nothing but a small hand-bag."
+
+"It has gone astray," he stammered. "It will turn up soon, no doubt, but
+in the meantime I have bought a few clothes for your immediate use."
+
+"Oh, have you? Where are they?" she cried, clapping her hands.
+
+Now was the crucial moment. He must introduce the subject of her
+departure tactfully.
+
+"They are outside in a cab."
+
+She ran to the window.
+
+"But I see no cab."
+
+"It is waiting a little farther down the street."
+
+She looked bewildered.
+
+"Farther down--why?"
+
+"You trust me, don't you?" he said, looking earnestly at her.
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"Then, believe me, it is necessary for you to leave this place
+immediately. I--you--are being pursued by some one who--who wishes to
+separate us."
+
+"Oh, no, not that!" she cried. "But how can any one separate us, when
+God has joined us together?"
+
+"It's a long story and I have no time to explain it now. All I ask is
+that you will trust me blindly for the present, and do exactly what I
+tell you to."
+
+"I will," she murmured submissively.
+
+"Thank you. Will you please call your nurse?"
+
+She touched a bell.
+
+The same middle-aged woman appeared of whom he had caught a glimpse on
+his former visit.
+
+"Good-morning, nurse. Your patient seems pretty fit to-day."
+
+"Mrs. Thompkins is recovering very rapidly."
+
+"Can I speak to the doctor?" asked Cyril.
+
+"I am sorry, but he has just left."
+
+"Too bad!" Cyril knitted his brows as if the doctor's absence was an
+unexpected disappointment. "Mrs. Thompkins must leave here at once and I
+wanted to explain her precipitate departure to him."
+
+"You might telephone," suggested the nurse.
+
+"Yes, or better still, I shall call at his office. But his absence
+places me in a most awkward predicament."
+
+Cyril paced the room several times as if in deep thought, then halted
+before the nurse.
+
+"Well, there is no help for it. As the doctor is not here, I must
+confide in you. Thompkins is not our real name. The doctor knows what
+that is and it was on his advice that we discarded it for the time
+being. I can't tell you our reason for this concealment nor why my wife
+must not only leave this house as soon as possible, but must do so
+unobserved. Will you help us?"
+
+"I--I don't know, sir," answered the nurse dubiously, staring at Cyril
+in amazement.
+
+"If you will dress my wife in a nurse's uniform and see that she gets
+out of here without being recognised, I will give you L100. Here is the
+money."
+
+The nurse gave a gasp and backed away from the notes, which Cyril held
+temptingly toward her.
+
+"Oh, I couldn't, sir, really I couldn't. The doctor would never forgive
+me. Besides it seems so queer."
+
+"I promise you on my word of honour that the doctor need never know that
+you helped us."
+
+But the woman only shook her head.
+
+"What makes you hesitate?" continued Cyril. "Do you think I am trying to
+bribe you to do something dishonourable? Ah, that is it, is it?" He gave
+a short laugh. "Look at my wife, does she look like a criminal, I ask
+you?"
+
+"She certainly doesn't," answered the nurse, glancing eagerly from one
+to the other and then longingly down at the money in Cyril's hand.
+
+"Well, then, why not trust your instinct in the matter? My wife and I
+have been placed, through no fault of our own, in a very disagreeable
+position. You will know the whole story some day, but for the present my
+lips are sealed. International complications might arise if the truth
+leaked out prematurely." Cyril felt that the last was a neat touch, for
+the woman's face cleared and she repeated in an awe-struck voice:
+"International complications!"
+
+"Germany! I can say no more," added Cyril in a stage whisper.
+
+"Ah! The wretches!" cried the nurse. "One never knows what they will be
+at next. Of course I will help you. I ought to have known at once that
+it was sure to be all right. Any one can see that you are a gentleman--a
+soldier, I dare say?"
+
+"Never mind who or what I am. It is better that you should be able
+truthfully to plead your complete ignorance. Now as to the uniform; have
+you one to spare?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. I will go and get it immediately."
+
+"All this mystery frightens me," exclaimed Priscilla as soon as they
+were alone.
+
+"You must be brave. Now listen attentively to what I am saying. On
+leaving here----"
+
+"Oh, aren't you going with me?" she asked.
+
+"No, we must not be seen together, but I will join you later."
+
+"You will not leave me alone again?"
+
+"Not for long."
+
+"Promise."
+
+"I promise."
+
+"Very well, now tell me what I am to do."
+
+"On leaving this house you are to turn to your right and walk down the
+street till you see a taxi with a box on it. A friend of mine, Guy
+Campbell, will be inside. You can easily recognise him; he has red hair.
+Campbell will drive you to a hotel where a lady is waiting for you and
+where you are to stay till I can join you. If there should be any hitch
+in these arrangements, go to this address and send a telegram to me at
+the club. I have written all this down," he said, handing her a folded
+paper.
+
+The nurse returned with her arms full of clothes.
+
+"Have you a thick veil?" asked Cyril.
+
+"There is a long one attached to the bonnet, but we never pull it over
+our faces, and I am afraid if Mrs. Thompkins did so, it would attract
+attention."
+
+"Yet something must be done to conceal her face."
+
+The nurse thought for a moment.
+
+"Leave that to me, sir. I used to help in private theatricals once upon
+a time."
+
+"That is splendid! I will go downstairs now and wait till you have got
+Mrs. Thompkins ready."
+
+"Give me a quarter of an hour and you will be astonished at the result."
+She seemed to have thrown her whole heart into the business.
+
+When Cyril returned, he found Priscilla really transformed. Her yellow
+curls had been plastered down on either side of her forehead. A pair of
+tinted spectacles dimmed the brilliancy of her eyes and her dark,
+finely-arched eyebrows had been rendered almost imperceptible by a
+skilful application of grease and powder. With a burnt match the nurse
+had drawn a few faint lines in the girlish face, so that she looked at
+least ten years older, and all this artifice was made to appear natural
+by means of a dingy, black net veil. A nurse's costume completed the
+disguise.
+
+"You have done winders, nurse. I can't thank you enough," he exclaimed.
+
+"Don't I look a fright?" cried Priscilla a little ruefully.
+
+"No, you don't. That is just where the art comes in. You are not
+noticeable one way or the other. It is admirable. And now you had better
+be going."
+
+The nurse peered into the hall.
+
+"There is no one about just now. I will take Mrs. Thompkins to the front
+door. If we are seen, it will be supposed that she is some friend of
+mine who has been calling on me. I will watch till I see her safely in
+the car," the nurse assured him.
+
+"Thanks."
+
+"By the way, as I have to pretend not to know of my patient's departure,
+I had better not return till you have left."
+
+"All right. Good-bye, nurse. I shall stay here a quarter of an hour so
+as to give you a good start. Good-bye, my dear."
+
+The next fifteen minutes seemed to Cyril the longest he had ever spent.
+He did not even dare to follow Priscilla's progress from the window.
+Watch in hand he waited till the time was up and then made his way
+cautiously out of the house without, as luck would have it, encountering
+any one.
+
+The taxi was no longer in sight! With a light heart Cyril walked briskly
+to the doctor's office.
+
+"Well, Lord Wilmersley, what brings you here?" asked the doctor, when
+Cyril was finally ushered into the august presence.
+
+"I have called to tell you that my wife has left the nursing home,"
+Cyril blurted out.
+
+"Impossible!" cried the doctor. "She was quite calm this morning. The
+nurse would----"
+
+"The nurse had nothing to do with it," interrupted Cyril hastily. "It
+was I who took her away."
+
+"You? But why this haste? I thought you had decided to wait till
+to-morrow."
+
+"For family reasons, which I need not go into now, I thought it best
+that she should be removed at once."
+
+"And may I know where she is?" inquired the doctor, looking searchingly
+at Cyril.
+
+"I intend to take her to Geralton--in--in a few days."
+
+"Indeed!" The doctor's upper lip lengthened perceptibly.
+
+"So you do not wish me to know where you have hidden her."
+
+"Hidden her?" Cyril raised his eyebrows deprecatingly. "That is a
+strange expression to use. It seems to me that a man has certainly the
+right to withhold his wife's address from a comparative stranger without
+being accused of hiding her. You should really choose your words more
+carefully, my dear sir."
+
+The doctor glared at Cyril for a moment, then rising abruptly he paced
+the room several times.
+
+"It's no use," he said at last, stopping in front of Cyril. "You can't
+persuade me that there is not some mystery connected with Lady
+Wilmersley. And I warn you that I have determined to find out the
+truth."
+
+Cyril's heart gave an uncomfortable jump, but he managed to keep his
+face impassive.
+
+"A mystery? What an amusing idea! A man of your imagination is really
+wasted in the medical profession. You should write, my dear doctor, you
+really should. But, granting for the sake of argument that I have
+something to conceal, what right have you to try to force my confidence?
+My wife's movements are surely no concern of yours."
+
+"One has not only the right, but it becomes one's obvious duty to
+interfere, when one has reason to believe that by doing so one may
+prevent the ill-treatment of a helpless woman."
+
+"Do you really think I ill-treat my wife?"
+
+"I think it is possible. And till I am sure that my fears are unfounded,
+I will not consent to Lady Wilmersley's remaining in your sole care."
+
+"Do you mind telling me what basis you have for such a monstrous
+suspicion?" asked Cyril very quietly.
+
+"Certainly. You bring me a young lady who has been flogged. You tell me
+that she is your wife, yet you profess to know nothing of her injuries
+and give an explanation which, although not impossible, is at all events
+highly improbable. This lady, who is not only beautiful but charming,
+you neglect in the most astonishing manner. No, I am not forgetting that
+you had other pressing duties to attend to, but even so, if you had
+cared for your wife, you could not have remained away from her as you
+did. It was nothing less than heartless to leave a poor young woman, in
+the state she was in, alone among strangers. Your letter only partially
+satisfied me. Your arguments would have seemed to me perfectly
+unconvincing, if I had not been so anxious to believe the best. As it
+was, although I tried to ignore it, a root of suspicion still lingered
+in my mind. Then, when you finally do turn up, instead of hurrying to
+your wife's bedside you try in every way to avoid meeting her till at
+last I have to insist upon your doing so. I tell you, that if she had
+not shown such marked affection for you, I should have had no doubt of
+your guilt."
+
+"Nonsense! Do I look like a wife-beater?"
+
+"No, but the only murderess I ever knew looked like one of Raphael's
+Madonnas."
+
+"Thanks for the implication." Cyril bowed sarcastically.
+
+"The more I observed Mrs. Thompkins," continued the doctor, "the more I
+became convinced that a severe shock was responsible for her amnesia,
+and that she had never been insane nor was she at all likely to become
+so."
+
+"Even physicians are occasionally mistaken in their diagnosis, I have
+been told."
+
+"You are right; that is why I have given you the benefit of the doubt,"
+replied the doctor calmly. "This morning, however, I made a discovery,
+which practically proves that my suspicions were not unfounded."
+
+"And pray what is this great discovery of yours?" drawled Cyril.
+
+"I had been worrying about this case all night, when it suddenly
+occurred to me to consult the peerage. I wanted to find out who Lady
+Wilmersley's people were, so that I might communicate with them if I
+considered it necessary. The first thing I found was that your wife was
+born in 18--, so that now she is in her twenty-eighth year. My patient
+is certainly not more than twenty. How do you account for this
+discrepancy in their ages?"
+
+Cyril forced himself to smile superciliously.
+
+"And is my wife's youthful appearance your only reason for doubting her
+identity?"
+
+The doctor seemed a little staggered by Cyril's nonchalant manner.
+
+"It is my chief reason, but as I have just taken the trouble to explain,
+not my only one."
+
+"Oh, really! And if she is not my wife, whom do you suspect her of
+being?"
+
+"I have no idea."
+
+"You astonish me." In trying to conceal his agitation Cyril
+unfortunately assumed an air of frigid detachment, which only served to
+exasperate the doctor still further.
+
+"Your manner is insulting, my lord."
+
+"Your suspicions are so flattering!" drawled Cyril.
+
+The doctor glared at Cyril for a moment but seemed at a loss for a
+crushing reply.
+
+"You must acknowledge that appearances are against you," he said at
+last, making a valiant effort to control his temper. "If you are a man
+of honour, you ought to appreciate that my position is a very difficult
+one and to be as ready to forgive me, if I have erred through excessive
+zeal, as I shall be to apologise to you. Now let me ask you one more
+question. Why were you so anxious that I should not see the jewels?"
+
+"Oh, had you not seen them? I thought, of course, that you had. I
+apologise for not having satisfied your curiosity."
+
+There was a short pause during which the doctor looked long and
+searchingly at Cyril.
+
+"I can't help it. I feel that there is something fishy about this
+business. You can't convince me to the contrary."
+
+"I was not aware that I was trying to do so."
+
+The doctor almost danced with rage.
+
+"Lord Wilmersley--for I suppose you are Lord Wilmersley?"
+
+"Unless I am his valet, Peter Thompkins."
+
+"I know nothing about you," cried the doctor, "and you have succeeded to
+your title under very peculiar circumstances, my lord."
+
+"So you suspect me not only of flogging my wife but of murdering my
+cousin!" laughed Cyril. "My dear doctor, don't you realise that if there
+were the slightest grounds for your suspicions, the police would have
+put me under surveillance long ago. Why, I can easily prove that I was
+in Paris at the time of the murder."
+
+"Oh, you are clever! I don't doubt that you have an impeccable alibi.
+But if I informed the police that you were passing off as your wife a
+girl several years younger than Lady Wilmersley, a girl, moreover, who,
+you acknowledged, joined you at Newhaven the very morning after the
+murder--if I told them that this young lady had in her possession a
+remarkable number of jewels, which she carried in a cheap, black
+bag--what do you think they would say to that, my lord?"
+
+Cyril felt cold chills creeping down his back and the palms of his hands
+grew moist. Not a flicker of an eyelash, however, betrayed his inward
+tumult. "They would no doubt pay as high a tribute to your imagination
+as I do," he answered.
+
+Then, abandoning his careless pose, he sat up in his chair.
+
+"You have been insulting me for the last half-hour, and I have borne it
+very patiently, partly because your absurd suspicions amused me, and
+partly because I realised that, although you are a fool, you are an
+honest fool."
+
+"Sir!" The doctor turned purple in the face.
+
+"You can hardly resent being called a fool by a man you have been
+accusing of murder and wife-beating. But I don't want you to go to the
+police with this cock-and-bull story----"
+
+"Ah! I thought not," sneered the doctor.
+
+"Because," continued Cyril, ignoring the interruption, "I want to
+protect my wife from unpleasant notoriety, and also, although you don't
+deserve it, to keep you from becoming a public laughing stock. So far
+you have done all the talking; now you are to listen to me. Sit down.
+You make me nervous strutting about like that. Sit down, I tell you.
+There, that's better. Now let us see what all this rigmarole really
+amounts to. You began by asking for my wife's address, and when I did
+not immediately gratify what I considered your impertinent curiosity,
+you launch forth into vague threats of exposure. As far as I can make
+out from your disjointed harangue, your excuse for prying into my
+affairs is that by doing so you are protecting a helpless woman from
+further ill-treatment. Very well. Granting that you really suppose me to
+be a brute, your behaviour might be perfectly justified if--if you
+believed that your patient is my wife. But you tell me that you do not.
+You think that she is either my mistress or my accomplice, or both. Now,
+if she is a criminal and an immoral woman, you must admit that she has
+shown extraordinary cleverness, inasmuch as she succeeded not only in
+eluding the police but in deceiving you. For the impression she made on
+you was a very favourable one, was it not? She seemed to you unusually
+innocent as well as absolutely frank, didn't she?"
+
+"Yes," acknowledged the doctor.
+
+"Now, if she was able to dupe so trained an observer as yourself, she
+must be a remarkable woman, and cannot be the helpless creature you
+picture her, and consequently would be in no danger of being forced to
+submit to abuse from any one."
+
+"True," murmured the doctor.
+
+"But I think I can prove to you that you were not mistaken in your first
+estimate of her character. This illness of hers--was it real or could it
+have been feigned?"
+
+"It was real. There is no doubt about that."
+
+"You saw her when she was only semi-conscious, when she was physically
+incapable of acting a part--did she during that time, either by word or
+look, betray moral perversity?"
+
+"She did not." The doctor's anger had abated and he was listening to
+Cyril intently.
+
+"How, then, can you doubt her? And if she is what she seems, she is
+certainly neither my mistress nor a thief; and if she is not the one nor
+the other, she must be my wife, and if you go to the police with your
+absurd suspicions, you will only succeed in making yourself ridiculous."
+
+There was a pause during which the two men eyed each other keenly.
+
+"You make a great point of the fact that my wife had in her possession a
+number of valuable ornaments," continued Cyril. "But why should she not?
+My wife insisted on having all her jewelry with her at Charleroi, and
+when she escaped from there, they were among the few things she took
+with her. The excitement of meeting her so unexpectedly and her sudden
+illness made me forget all about them, otherwise I would have taken them
+out of the bag, which, as you may have noticed, was not even locked. But
+the very fact that I did forget all about them and allowed them to pass
+through the hands of nurses and servants, that alone ought to convince
+you that I did not come by them dishonestly. You had them for days in
+your possession; yet you accuse me of having prevented you from
+examining them. That is really ridiculous! Your whole case against me is
+built on the wildest conjectures, from which you proceed to draw
+perfectly untenable inferences. My wife looks young for her age, I grant
+you; but even you would not venture to swear positively that she is not
+twenty-eight. You fancied that I neglected her; consequently I am a
+brute. She is sane now; so you believe that she has never been
+otherwise. You imagined that I did not wish you to examine the contents
+of my wife's bag, therefore the Wilmersley jewels must have been in it."
+
+"What you say sounds plausible enough," acknowledged the doctor, "and it
+seems impossible to associate you with anything cruel, mean, or even
+underhand, and yet--and yet--I have an unaccountable feeling that you
+are not telling me the truth. When I try to analyse my impressions, I
+find that I distrust not you but your story. You have, however,
+convinced me that I have no logical basis for my suspicions. That being
+the case, I shall do nothing for the present. But, if at the end of a
+fortnight I do not hear that Lady Wilmersley has arrived in England, and
+has taken her place in the world, then I shall believe that my instinct
+has not been at fault, and shall do my best to find out what has become
+of her, even at the risk of creating a scandal or of being laughed at
+for my pains. But I don't care, I shall feel that I have done my duty.
+In the meantime I shall write to Dr. Monet. Now I have given you a fair
+warning, which you can act on as you see fit."
+
+What an unerring scent the man had for falsehood, thought Cyril with
+unwilling admiration. It was really wonderful the way he disregarded
+probabilities and turned a deaf ear to reason. He was a big man, Cyril
+grudgingly admitted.
+
+"I suppose you will not believe me if I tell you that I have no personal
+animosity toward you, Lord Wilmersley?"
+
+"I know that. And some day we'll laugh over this episode together,"
+replied Cyril, with a heartiness which surprised himself.
+
+"Now that is nice of you," cried the doctor. "My temper is rather hasty,
+I am sorry to say, and though I don't remember all I said just now, I am
+sure, I was unnecessarily disagreeable."
+
+"Well, I called you a fool," grinned Cyril.
+
+"So you did, so you did, and may I live to acknowledge that I richly
+deserve the appellation."
+
+And so their interview terminated with unexpected friendliness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+CAMPBELL REMONSTRATES
+
+
+In his note to Guy, Cyril had asked the latter to join him at his club
+as soon as he had left Priscilla at the hotel, and so when the time
+passed and his friend neither came nor telephoned, Cyril's anxiety knew
+no bounds.
+
+What could have happened? thought Cyril. Had Priscilla been arrested? In
+that case, however, Guy would surely have communicated with him at once,
+for the police could have had no excuse for detaining the latter.
+
+Several acquaintances he had not seen for years greeted him cordially,
+but he met their advances so half-heartedly that they soon left him to
+himself, firmly convinced that the title had turned his head. Only one,
+an old friend of his father's, refused to be shaken off and sat prosing
+away quite oblivious of his listener's preoccupation till the words
+"your wife" arrested Cyril's wandering attention.
+
+"Yes," the Colonel was saying, "too bad that you should have this added
+worry just now. Taken ill on the train, too--most awkward."
+
+Cyril was so startled that he could only repeat idiotically: "My wife?"
+
+"Am I wrong?" exclaimed the Colonel, evidently at a loss to understand
+Cyril's perturbation. "Your wife is in town, isn't she, and ill?"
+
+What should he answer? He dared not risk a denial.
+
+"Who told you that she was ill?" he asked.
+
+"It was in the morning papers. Didn't you see it?"
+
+"In the papers!"
+
+Cyril realised at once that he ought to have foreseen that this was
+bound to have occurred. Too many people knew the story for it not to
+have leaked out eventually.
+
+"I have not had time to read them to-day," replied Cyril as soon as he
+was able to collect his wits a little. "What did they say?"
+
+"Only that your wife had been prostrated by the shock of Wilmersley's
+murder, and had to be removed from the train to a nursing home."
+
+"It's a bore that it got into the papers. My wife is only suffering from
+a slight indisposition and will be all right in a day or two," Cyril
+hastened to assure him.
+
+"Glad to hear it. I must meet her. Where is she staying at present?"
+
+"She--she is still at the nursing home--but she is leaving there
+to-morrow." Then fearing that more questions were impending, Cyril
+seized the Colonel's hand and shaking it vehemently exclaimed: "I must
+write some letters. So glad to have had this chat with you," and without
+giving the Colonel time to answer, he fled from the room.
+
+Cyril looked at his watch. Ten minutes to three! Guy must have met with
+an accident. Suddenly an alarming possibility occurred to him,--what if
+the police had traced the jewels to Campbell? The bag, which had
+disappeared, must have been taken by them. Griggs, when he inquired so
+innocently about "Lady Wilmersley," had been fully cognisant of the
+girl's identity. What was to be done now? He could not remain passive
+and await developments. He must--was that--could that be Campbell
+sauntering so leisurely toward him? Indeed it was!
+
+"What has happened?" asked Cyril in a hoarse whisper, dragging his
+friend into a secluded corner. "Tell me at once."
+
+"Nothing, my dear boy. I am afraid I kept you waiting longer than I
+intended to. I hope you have not been anxious?" Guy seemed, however,
+quite unconcerned.
+
+"Anxious!" exclaimed Cyril indignantly. "Well, rather! How could you
+have kept me in such suspense? Why didn't you come to me at once on
+leaving Miss Prentice?"
+
+"But I did. I have just left her."
+
+"And she is really all right? The governess, Miss What's her name, is
+with her?"
+
+"Certainly. But I didn't want to leave Mrs. Thompkins alone with a
+stranger in a strange place, so I stayed and lunched with them."
+
+Cyril almost choked with rage. _He_ had had no lunch at all. He had been
+too upset to think of such a thing and all the time they--oh! It was too
+abominable! Campbell was a selfish little brute. He would never forgive
+him, thought Cyril, scowling down at the complacent offender. For he was
+complacent, that was the worst of it. From the top of his sleek, red
+head to the tips of his immaculate boots, he radiated a triumphant
+self-satisfaction. What was the matter with the man? wondered Cyril. He
+seemed indefinably changed. There was a jauntiness about him--a light in
+his eyes which Cyril did not remember to have noticed before. And what
+was the meaning of those two violets drooping so sentimentally in his
+buttonhole? Cyril stared at the flowers as if hypnotised.
+
+"So you liked Miss Prentice?" he managed to say, controlling himself
+with an effort.
+
+"Rather! But I say, Cyril, it's all rot about her being that Prentice
+woman."
+
+"Ah, you think so?"
+
+"I don't think--I know. Why, she speaks French like a native."
+
+"How did you find that out?" asked Cyril, forgetting his indignation in
+his surprise at this new development.
+
+"We had a duffer of a waiter who understood very little English, so Mrs.
+Thompkins spoke to him in French, and such French! It sounded like the
+real thing."
+
+Cyril was dumfounded. How could a girl brought up in a small inland
+village, which she had left only six months before, have learnt French?
+And then he remembered that the doctor had told him that she had
+retained a dim recollection of Paris. Why had the significance of that
+fact not struck him before?
+
+"But if she is not Priscilla Prentice, who on earth can she be? She
+can't be Anita Wilmersley!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Of course not. She--she--" Guy paused at a loss for a suggestion.
+
+"And yet, if she is not the sempstress, she must be Anita!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because of the jewels in her bag."
+
+"I don't believe they are the Wilmersley jewels----"
+
+"There is no doubt as to that. I have the list somewhere and you can
+easily verify it."
+
+"Then the bag is not hers. It may have been left in the seat by some one
+else."
+
+"She opened it in my presence."
+
+"But you proved to me last night that she could not be Lady Wilmersley,"
+insisted Guy.
+
+"So I did. Anita has masses of bright, yellow hair. This girl's hair is
+dark."
+
+"Well, then----"
+
+"There seems no possible explanation to the enigma," acknowledged Cyril.
+
+"Perhaps she wore a wig."
+
+"She did not. When she fainted I loosened her veil and a strand of her
+hair caught in my fingers. It was her own, I can swear to that."
+
+"She may have dyed it."
+
+"I never thought of that," exclaimed Cyril. "No, I don't think she could
+have had time to dye it. It takes hours, I believe. At nine, when she
+was last seen, she had made no attempt to alter her appearance. Now
+Wilmersley was----"
+
+"Hold on," cried Guy. "You told me, did you not, that she had cut off
+her hair because it had turned white?"
+
+"Yes," assented Cyril.
+
+"Very well, then, that disposes of the possibility of its having been
+dyed."
+
+"So it does. And yet, she carried the Wilmersley jewels, that is a fact
+we must not forget."
+
+"Then she must be a hitherto unsuspected factor in the case."
+
+"Possibly, and yet---"
+
+"Yet what?"
+
+"I confess I have no other solution to offer. Oh, by the way, what is
+the number of her room?"
+
+Guy stiffened perceptibly.
+
+"I don't think I remember it."
+
+"How annoying! I particularly asked you to make a note of it!"
+
+"Oh, did you?" Guy's face was averted and he toyed nervously with his
+eye-glass.
+
+"Of course I did. You must realise--in fact we discussed it
+together--that I must be able to see her."
+
+"As there is nothing that you can do for her, why should you compromise
+her still further?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you ought not to take further advantage of her peculiar
+affliction so as to play the part of a devoted husband."
+
+"This is outrageous--" began Cyril, but Campbell cut him short.
+
+"While you fancied that she was in need of your assistance, I grant that
+there was some excuse for your conduct, but to continue the farce any
+longer would be positively dishonourable."
+
+Cyril was so surprised at Campbell's belligerent tone that for a moment
+it rendered him speechless. From a boy Guy had always been his humble
+admirer. What could have wrought this sudden change in him? wondered
+Cyril. Again his eyes lingered on the violets. It was not possible! And
+yet Cyril had often suspected that under Guy's obvious shrewdness there
+lurked a vein of romanticism. And as Cyril surveyed his friend, his
+wrath slowly cooled. For the first time it occurred to him that
+Campbell's almost comic exterior must be a real grief to a man of his
+temperament. His own appearance had always seemed to Cyril such a
+negligible quantity that he shrank from formulating even in his own mind
+the reason why he felt that it would be absurd to fear Guy as a rival. A
+man who is not to be feared is a man to be pitied, and it was this
+unacknowledged pity, together with a sudden suspicion of the possible
+tragedy of his friend's life, which allayed Cyril's indignation and made
+him finally reply gently:
+
+"I think you are mistaken. I am sure she still needs me."
+
+"She does not. Miss Trevor and I are quite able to look after her."
+
+"I don't doubt your goodwill, my dear Guy, but what about her feelings?"
+
+"Feelings! I like that! Do you fancy that her feelings are concerned? Do
+you imagine that she will be inconsolable at your absence?"
+
+"You appear to forget that she believes me to be her husband. Her
+pride--her vanity will be hurt if I appear to neglect her." Cyril still
+spoke very quietly.
+
+"Then I will tell her the truth at once," exclaimed Campbell.
+
+"And risk the recurrence of her illness? Remember the doctor insisted
+that she must on no account be agitated."
+
+"Why should it agitate her to be told that you are not her husband? I
+should think it would be a jolly sight more agitating to believe one's
+self bound to a perfect stranger. It is a wonder it has not driven the
+poor child crazy."
+
+"Luckily she took the sad news very calmly," Cyril could not refrain
+from remarking. Really, Guy was intolerable and he longed with a
+primitive longing to punch his head. But he had to control himself. Guy
+was capable of being nasty, if not handled carefully. So he hastily
+continued:
+
+"How can you undeceive her on one point without explaining the whole
+situation to her?"
+
+"I--" began Guy, "I--" He paused.
+
+"Exactly. Even you have no solution to offer. Even you have to
+acknowledge that the relief of knowing that she is not my wife might be
+offset by learning not only that we are quite in the dark as to who she
+is, but that at any moment she may be arrested on a charge of murder."
+
+"I don't know what to do!" murmured Guy helplessly.
+
+"Do nothing for the present."
+
+"Nothing!" exclaimed Guy. "Nothing! And leave you to insinuate yourself
+into her--affections! She must be told the truth some day, but by that
+time she may have grown to--to--love you." Guy gulped painfully over the
+word. "You are a married man. That fact evidently seems 'too trifling'
+to be considered, but I fancy she will not regard it as casually as you
+do."
+
+"This is absurd," began Cyril, but Guy intercepted him.
+
+"You feel free to do as you please because you expect to get a divorce,
+but you have not got it yet, remember, and in the meantime your wife may
+bring a countersuit, naming Miss--Mrs. Thompkins as corespondent."
+
+This suggestion staggered Cyril for a moment.
+
+"And in that case," continued Campbell, "she would probably think that
+she ought to marry you. After having been dragged through the filth of a
+divorce court, she would imagine herself too besmirched to give herself
+to any other man. And your wealth, your title, and your precious self
+may not seem to her as desirable as you suppose. She is the sort of girl
+who would think them a poor exchange for the loss of her reputation and
+her liberty of choice. When she discovers how you have compromised her
+by your asinine stupidity, I don't fancy that she will take a lenient
+view of your conduct."
+
+"You seem to forget that if I had not shielded her with my name, she
+would undoubtedly have been arrested on the train."
+
+"Oh, I don't doubt you meant well."
+
+"Thanks," murmured Cyril sarcastically.
+
+"All I say is that you must not see her again till this mystery is
+cleared up. I didn't forget about the number of her apartment, but I
+wasn't going to help you to sneak in to her at all hours. Now, if you
+want to see her, you will have to go boldly up to the hotel and have
+yourself properly announced. And I don't think you will care about
+that."
+
+"I promised to see her. I shall not break my word."
+
+"I don't care a fig for your promises. You shan't see her as long as she
+believes you to be her husband."
+
+Luckily the room was empty, for both men had risen to their feet.
+
+"I shall see her," repeated Cyril.
+
+"If you do, I warn you that I shall tell her the truth and risk the
+consequences. She shall not, if I can help it, be placed in a position
+where she will be forced to marry a man who has, after all, lived his
+life. She ought--" Guy paused abruptly.
+
+"She ought, in other words, to be given the choice between my battered
+heart and your virgin affections. Is that it?"
+
+"I mean----"
+
+"Oh, you have made your meaning quite clear, I assure you!" interrupted
+Cyril. "But what you have been saying is sheer nonsense. You have been
+calling me to account for things that have not happened, and blaming me
+for what I have not done. She is not being dragged through the divorce
+court, and I see no reason to suppose that she ever will be. I am not
+trying to force her to marry me, and can promise that I shall never do
+so. Far from taking advantage of the situation, I assure you my conduct
+has been most circumspect. Don't cross a bridge till you get to it, and
+don't accuse a man of being a cad just because--" Cyril paused abruptly
+and looked at Guy, and as he did so, his expression slowly relaxed till
+he finally smiled indulgently--"just because a certain lady is very
+charming," he added.
+
+But Guy was not to be pacified. He would neither retract nor modify his
+ultimatum. He knew, of course, that Cyril would not dare to write the
+girl; for if the letter miscarried or was found by the police, it might
+be fatal to both.
+
+But while they were still heatedly debating the question, a way suddenly
+occurred to Cyril by which he could communicate with her with absolute
+safety. So he waited placidly for Guy to take himself off, which he
+eventually did, visibly elated at having, as he thought, effectually put
+a stop to further intercourse between the two. He had hardly left the
+club, however, before Cyril was talking to Priscilla over the telephone!
+He explained to her as best he could that he had been called out of town
+for a few days, and begged her on no account to leave her apartments
+till he returned. He also tried to impress on her that she had better
+talk about him as little as possible and above all things not to mention
+either to Campbell or Miss Trevor that she had heard from him and
+expected to see him before long.
+
+It cost Cyril a tremendous effort to restrict himself to necessary
+instructions and polite inquiries, especially as she kept begging him to
+come back to her as soon as possible. Finally he could bear the strain
+no longer, and in the middle of a sentence he resolutely hung up the
+receiver.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+WHAT IS THE TRUTH?
+
+
+When Cyril arrived in Newhaven that evening, he was unpleasantly
+surprised to find, as he got out of the train, that Judson had been
+travelling in the adjoining compartment. Had the man been following him,
+or was it simply chance that had brought them together, he wondered. Oh!
+If he could only get rid of the fellow!
+
+"You have come to see me, I suppose," he remarked ungraciously.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Very well, then, get into the car."
+
+Cyril was in no mood to talk, so the first part of the way was
+accomplished in silence, but at last, thinking that he might as well
+hear what the man had to say, he turned to him and asked:
+
+"Have you found out anything of any importance?"
+
+"I fancy so, my lord."
+
+"Really! Well, what is it?"
+
+"If you will excuse me, my lord, I should suggest that we wait till we
+get to the castle," replied Judson, casting a meaning look at the
+chauffeur's back.
+
+"Just as you please." His contempt for Judson was so great that Cyril
+was not very curious to hear his revelations.
+
+"Now," said Cyril, as he flung himself into a low chair before the
+library fire, "what have you to tell me?"
+
+Before answering Judson peered cautiously around; then, drawing forward
+a straight-backed chair, he seated himself close to Cyril and folded his
+hands in his lap.
+
+"In dealing with my clients," he began, "I make it a rule instead of
+simply stating the results of my work to show them how I arrive at my
+conclusions. Having submitted to them all the facts I have collected,
+they are able to judge for themselves as to the value of the evidence on
+which my deductions are based. And so, my lord, I should like to go over
+the whole case with you from the very beginning."
+
+Cyril gave a grunt which Judson evidently construed into an assent, for
+he continued even more glibly:
+
+"The first point I considered was, whether her Ladyship had premeditated
+her escape. But in order to determine this, we must first decide whom
+she could have got to help her to accomplish such a purpose. The most
+careful inquiry has failed to reveal any one who would have been both
+willing and able to do so, except the sempstress, and as both mistress
+and maid disappeared almost simultaneously, one's first impulse is to
+take it for granted that Prentice was her Ladyship's accomplice. This is
+what every one, Scotland Yard included, believes."
+
+"And you do not?"
+
+"Before either accepting or rejecting this theory, I decided to visit
+this girl's home. I did not feel clear in my mind about her. All the
+servants were impressed by her manner and personality, the butler
+especially so, and he more than hinted that there must be some mystery
+attached to her. One of the things that stimulated their curiosity was
+that she kept up a daily correspondence with some one in Plumtree. On
+reaching the village I called at once on the vicar. He is an elderly
+man, much respected and beloved by his parishioners. I found him in a
+state of great excitement, having just read in the paper of Prentice's
+disappearance. I had no difficulty in inducing him to tell me the main
+facts of her history; the rest I picked up from the village gossips. The
+girl is a foundling. And till she came to Geralton she was an inmate of
+the vicar's household. He told me that he would have adopted her, but
+knowing that he had not sufficient means to provide for her future, he
+wisely refrained from educating her above her station. Nevertheless, I
+gathered that the privilege of his frequent companionship had refined
+her speech and manners, and I am told that she now could pass muster in
+any drawing-room."
+
+"Did she ever learn French?" interrupted Cyril, eagerly.
+
+"Not that I know of, and I do not believe the vicar would have taught
+her an accomplishment so useless to one in her position."
+
+"Did she ever go to France?"
+
+"Never. But, why do you ask?"
+
+"No matter--I--but go on with your story."
+
+"Owing partly to the mystery which surrounded her birth and gave rise to
+all sorts of rumours, and partly to her own personality, the gentry of
+the neighbourhood made quite a pet of her. As a child she was asked
+occasionally to play with the Squire's crippled daughter and later she
+used to go to the Hall three times a week to read aloud to her. So,
+notwithstanding the vicar's good intentions, she grew up to be neither
+'fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red herring.' Now all went well till about
+a year ago, when the Squire's eldest son returned home and fell in love
+with her. His people naturally opposed the match and, as he is entirely
+dependent upon them, there seemed no possibility of his marrying her.
+The girl appeared broken-hearted, and when she came to the castle, every
+one, the vicar included, thought the affair at an end. I am sure,
+however, that such was not the case, for as no one at the vicarage wrote
+to her daily, the letters she received must have come from her young
+man. Furthermore, she told the servants that she had a cousin in
+Newhaven, but as she has not a relative in the world, this is obviously
+a falsehood. Who, then, is this mysterious person she visited? It seems
+to me almost certain that it was her lover."
+
+"Possibly," agreed Cyril. "But I don't quite see what you are trying to
+prove by all this. If Prentice did not help her Ladyship to escape, who
+did?"
+
+"I have not said that Prentice is not a factor in the case, only I
+believe her part to have been a very subordinate one. Of one thing,
+however, I am sure, and that is that she did not return to Geralton on
+the night of the murder."
+
+"How can you be sure of that?" demanded Cyril.
+
+"Because she asked for permission early in the morning to spend the
+night in Newhaven and had already left the castle before the doctors'
+visit terminated. Now, although I think it probable that her Ladyship
+may for a long time have entertained the idea of leaving Geralton, yet I
+believe that it was the doctors' visit that gave the necessary impetus
+to convert her idle longing into definite action. Therefore I conclude
+that Prentice could have had no knowledge of her mistress's sudden
+flight."
+
+"But how can you know that the whole thing had not been carefully
+premeditated?"
+
+"Because her Ladyship showed such agitation and distress at hearing the
+doctors' verdict. If her plans for leaving the castle had been
+completed, she would have accepted the situation more calmly."
+
+"Has nothing been heard of these doctors?"
+
+"Nothing. We have been able to trace them only as far as London. They
+could not have been reputable physicians or they would have answered our
+advertisements, and so I am inclined to believe that you were right and
+that it was his Lordship who spread the rumours of her Ladyship's
+insanity."
+
+"I am sure of it," said Cyril.
+
+"Very good. Assuming, therefore, that Lady Wilmersley is sane, we will
+proceed to draw logical inferences from her actions." Judson paused a
+moment before continuing: "Now I am convinced that the only connection
+Prentice had with the affair was to procure some clothes for her
+mistress, and these had probably been sometime in the latter's
+possession."
+
+"H'm!" ejaculated Cyril sceptically. "I think it would have been pretty
+difficult to have concealed anything from that maid of hers."
+
+"Difficult, I grant you, but not impossible, my lord."
+
+"But if Prentice had no knowledge of the tragedy, why did she not return
+to the castle? What has become of her? Why have the police been unable
+to find her?"
+
+"I believe that she joined her lover and that they are together on the
+continent, for in Plumtree I was told that the young man had recently
+gone to Paris. As I am sure that she knows nothing of any importance, I
+thought it useless to waste time and money trying to discover their
+exact locality. That the police have not succeeded in finding her, I
+ascribe to the fact that they are looking for a young woman who left
+Newhaven after and not before the murder."
+
+"You think she left before?"
+
+"Yes, and I have two reasons for this supposition. First, I can discover
+no place where he or she, either separately or together, could have
+spent the night. Secondly, if they had left Newhaven the following
+morning or in fact at any time after the murder, they would certainly
+have been apprehended, as all the boats and trains were most carefully
+watched."
+
+"But no one knew of her disappearance till twenty-four hours later, and
+during that interval she could easily have got away unobserved."
+
+"No, my lord, there you are mistaken. From the moment that the police
+were notified that a crime had been committed, every one, especially
+every woman, who left Newhaven was most attentively scrutinised."
+
+"You are certain that Prentice could not have left Newhaven unnoticed,
+yet her Ladyship managed to do so! How do you account for that?"
+
+The detective paused a moment and looked fixedly at Cyril.
+
+"Her Ladyship had a very powerful protector, my lord," he finally said.
+
+"A protector! Who?"
+
+Again the detective did not reply immediately.
+
+"It's no use beating about the bush, my lord, I know everything."
+
+"Well then, out with it," cried Cyril impatiently. "What are you
+hesitating for? Have you found her Ladyship or have you not?"
+
+"I have, my lord."
+
+"You have! Then why on earth didn't you tell me at once? Where is she?"
+cried Cyril.
+
+There was a pause during which the detective regarded Cyril through
+narrowed lids.
+
+"She is at present at the nursing home of Dr. Stuart-Smith," he said at
+last.
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Cyril, sinking back into his chair and negligently
+lighting another cigarette. "I thought you had discovered something. You
+mean my wife, Lady Wilmersley----"
+
+"Pardon me for interrupting you, my lord. I don't make mistakes like
+that. I repeat, the Dowager Lady Wilmersley is under the care of Dr.
+Smith."
+
+The man's tone was so assured that Cyril was staggered for a moment.
+
+"It isn't true," he asserted angrily.
+
+"Is it possible that you really do not know who the lady is that you
+rescued that day from the police?" exclaimed the detective, startled out
+of his habitual impassivity.
+
+"I confess that I do not. But of one thing I am sure, and that is that
+she is not the person you suppose."
+
+"Well, my lord, I must say that you have surprised me. Yet I ought to
+have guessed it. It was stupid of me, very."
+
+"I tell you that you are on the wrong track. Lady Wilmersley has golden
+hair. Well, this lady's hair is black."
+
+"She has dyed it."
+
+"She has not, for it has turned completely white," exclaimed Cyril,
+triumphantly.
+
+"Did she tell you so?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Her Ladyship is cleverer than I supposed," remarked the detective with
+a pitying smile.
+
+"I am not such a fool as you seem to think," retorted Cyril. "And I can
+assure you that the lady in question is incapable of deception."
+
+"All I can say is, my lord, that I am absolutely sure of her Ladyship's
+identity and that you yourself gave me the clue to her whereabouts."
+
+"I--how?"
+
+"I of course noticed that when you heard her Ladyship had golden hair,
+you were not only extremely surprised but also very much relieved. I at
+once asked myself why such an apparently trivial matter should have so
+great and so peculiar an effect on you. As you had never seen her
+Ladyship, I argued that you must that very day have met some one you had
+reason to suppose to be Lady Wilmersley and that this person had dark
+hair. By following your movements from the time you landed I found that
+the only woman with whom you had come in contact was a young lady who
+had joined you in Newhaven, and that she answered to the description of
+Lady Wilmersley in every particular, with the sole exception that she
+had dark hair! I was, however, told that you had said that she was your
+wife and had produced a passport to prove it. Now I had heard from your
+valet that her Ladyship was still in France, so you can hardly blame me
+for doubting the correctness of your statement. But in order to make
+assurance doubly sure, I sent one of my men to the continent. He
+reported that her Ladyship had for some months been a patient at
+Charleroi, but had recently escaped from there, and that you are still
+employing detectives to find her."
+
+"I did not engage you to pry into my affairs," exclaimed Cyril savagely.
+
+"Nor have I exceeded my duty as I conceive it," retorted the detective.
+"As your Lordship refused to honour me with your confidence, I had to
+find out the facts by other means; and you must surely realise that
+without facts it is impossible for me to construct a theory, and till I
+can do that my work is practically valueless."
+
+"But my wife has nothing to do with the case."
+
+"Quite so, my lord, but a lady who claimed to be her Ladyship is
+intimately concerned with it."
+
+"I repeat that is all nonsense."
+
+"If your Lordship will listen to me, I think I can prove to you that as
+far as the lady's identity is concerned, I have made no mistake. But to
+do this convincingly, I must reconstruct the tragedy as I conceive that
+it happened."
+
+"Go ahead; I don't mind hearing your theory."
+
+"First, I must ask you to take it for granted that I am right in
+believing that Prentice was ignorant of her Ladyship's flight."
+
+"I will admit that much," agreed Cyril.
+
+"Thank you, my lord. Now let us try and imagine exactly what was her
+Ladyship's position on the night of the murder. Her first care must have
+been to devise some means of eluding his Lordship's vigilance. This was
+a difficult problem, for Mustapha tells me that his Lordship was not
+only a very light sleeper but that he suffered from chronic insomnia.
+You may or may not know that his Lordship had long been addicted to the
+opium habit and would sometimes for days together lie in a stupor. Large
+quantities of the drug were found in his room and that explains how her
+Ladyship managed to get hold of the opium with which she doctored his
+Lordship's coffee."
+
+"This is, however, mere supposition on your part," objected Cyril.
+
+"Not at all, my lord. I had the sediment of the two cups analysed and
+the chemist found that one of them contained a small quantity of opium.
+Her Ladyship, being practically ignorant as to the exact nature of the
+drug and of the effect it would have on a man who was saturated with it,
+gave his Lordship too small a dose. Nevertheless, he became immediately
+stupefied."
+
+"Now, how on earth can you know that?"
+
+"Very easily, my lord. If his Lordship had not been rendered at once
+unconscious, he would--knowing that an attempt had been made to drug
+him--have sounded the alarm and deputed Mustapha to guard her Ladyship,
+which was what he always did when he knew that he was not equal to the
+task."
+
+"Well, that sounds plausible, at all events," acknowledged Cyril.
+
+"As soon as her Ladyship knew that she was no longer watched," continued
+the detective, "she at once set to work to disguise herself. As we know,
+she had provided herself with clothes, but I fancy her hair, her most
+noticeable feature, must have caused her some anxious moments."
+
+"She may have worn a wig," suggested Cyril, hoping that Judson would
+accept this explanation of the difficulty, in which case he would be
+able triumphantly to demolish the latter's theory of the girl's
+identity, by stating that he could positively swear that her hair was
+her own.
+
+"No, my lord. After carefully investigating the matter I have come to
+the conclusion that she did not. And my reasons are, first, that no
+hairdresser in Newhaven has lately sold a dark wig to any one, and,
+secondly, that no parcel arrived, addressed either to her Ladyship or to
+Prentice, which could have contained such an article. On the other hand,
+as his Lordship had for years dyed his hair and beard, her Ladyship had
+only to go into his dressing-room to procure a very simple means of
+transforming herself."
+
+"But doesn't it take ages to dye hair?" asked Cyril.
+
+"If it is done properly, yes; but the sort of stain his Lordship used
+can be very quickly applied. I do not believe it took her Ladyship more
+than half an hour to dye enough of her hair to escape notice, but in all
+probability she had no time to do it very thoroughly and that which
+escaped may have turned white. I don't know anything about that."
+
+This was a possibility which had not occurred to Cyril; but still he
+refused to be convinced.
+
+"Very well, my lord. Let me continue my story: Before her Ladyship had
+completed her preparations, his Lordship awoke from his stupor."
+
+"What makes you think that?"
+
+"Because, if his Lordship had not tried to prevent her escape, she would
+have had no reason for killing him. Probably they had a struggle, her
+hand fell on the pistol, and the deed was done----"
+
+"But what about the ruined picture?"
+
+"Her Ladyship, knowing that there was no other portrait of her in
+existence, destroyed it in order to make it difficult for the police to
+follow her."
+
+"H'm," grunted Cyril. "You make her Ladyship out a nice, cold-blooded,
+calculating sort of person. If you think she at all resembles the young
+lady at the nursing home, I can only tell you that you are vastly
+mistaken."
+
+"As I have not the honour of knowing the lady in question, I cannot form
+any opinion as to that. But let us continue: I wish to confess at once
+that I am not at all sure how her Ladyship reached Newhaven. That
+waiting automobile complicates matters. On the face of it, it seems as
+if it must have some connection with the case. I have also a feeling
+that it has, and yet for the life of me I cannot discover the connecting
+link. Whatever the younger man was, the elder was undoubtedly a
+Frenchman, and I have ascertained that with the exception of an old
+French governess, who lived with her Ladyship before her marriage, and
+of Mustapha and Valdriguez, Lady Wilmersley knew no foreigner whatever.
+Besides, these two men seem to have been motoring about the country
+almost at random, and it may have been the merest accident which brought
+them to the foot of the long lane just at the time when her Ladyship was
+in all probability leaving the castle. Whether they gave her a lift as
+far as Newhaven, I do not know. How her Ladyship reached the town
+constitutes the only serious--I will not call it break--but hiatus--in
+my theory. From half-past six the next morning, however, her movements
+can be easily followed. A young lady, dressed as you know, approached
+the station with obvious nervousness. Three things attracted the
+attention of the officials: first, the discrepancy between the
+simplicity, I might almost say the poverty, of her clothes, and the fact
+that she purchased a first-class ticket; secondly, that she did not wish
+her features to be seen; and thirdly, that she had no luggage except a
+small hand-bag. How her Ladyship managed to elude the police, and what
+has subsequently occurred to her, I do not need to tell your Lordship."
+
+"You haven't in the least convinced me that the young lady is her
+Ladyship, not in the least. You yourself admit that there is a hiatus in
+your story; well, that hiatus is to me a gulf which you have failed to
+bridge. Because one lady disappears from Geralton and another appears
+the next morning in Newhaven, you insist the two are identical. But you
+have not offered me one iota of proof that such is the case."
+
+"What more proof do you want? She is the only person who left Newhaven
+by train or boat who even vaguely resembled her Ladyship."
+
+"That means nothing. Her Ladyship may not have come to Newhaven at all,
+but have been driven to some hiding-place in the Frenchman's car."
+
+"I think that quite impossible, for every house, every cottage, every
+stable and barn even, for twenty-five miles around, has been carefully
+searched. Besides, this would mean that the murder had been premeditated
+and the coming of the motor had been pre-arranged; and lastly, as the
+gardener's wife testifies that the car left Geralton certainly no
+earlier than eleven-thirty, and as the two men reached the hotel before
+twelve, this precludes the possibility that they could have done more
+than drive straight back to the Inn, as the motor is by no means a fast
+one."
+
+"But, my man, they may have secreted her Ladyship in the town itself and
+have taken her with them to France the next morning."
+
+"Impossible. In the first place, they left alone, the porter saw them
+off; and secondly, no one except the two Frenchmen purchased a ticket
+for the continent either in the Newhaven office or on the boat."
+
+Cyril rose from his seat. Judson's logic was horribly convincing; no
+smallest detail had apparently escaped him. As the man piled argument on
+argument, he had found himself slowly and grudgingly accepting his
+conclusions.
+
+"As you are in my employ, I take it for granted that you will not inform
+the police or the press of your--suspicions," he said at last.
+
+"Certainly not, my lord. On the other hand, I must ask you to allow me
+to withdraw from the case."
+
+"But why?" exclaimed Cyril.
+
+"Because my duty to you, as my client, prevents me from taking any
+further steps in this matter."
+
+"I don't understand you!"
+
+"I gather that you are less anxious to clear up the mystery than to
+protect her Ladyship. Am I not right?"
+
+"Yes," acknowledged Cyril.
+
+"You would even wish me to assist you in providing a safe retreat for
+her."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Well, my lord, that is just what I cannot do. It is my duty, as I
+conceive it, to hold my tongue, but I should not feel justified in
+aiding her Ladyship to escape the consequences of her--her--action. In
+order to be faithful to my engagement to you, I am willing to let the
+public believe that I have made a failure of the case. I shall not even
+allow my imagination to dwell on your future movements, but more than
+that I cannot do."
+
+"You take the position that her Ladyship is an ordinary criminal, but
+you must realise that that is absurd. Even granting that she is
+responsible for her husband's death--of which, by the way, we have no
+absolute proof--are you not able to make allowances for a poor woman
+goaded to desperation by an opium fiend?"
+
+"I do not constitute myself her Ladyship's judge, but I don't think your
+Lordship quite realises all that you are asking of me. Even if I were
+willing to waive the question of my professional honour, I should still
+decline to undertake a task which, I know, is foredoomed to failure.
+For, if _I_ discovered Lady Wilmersley with so little difficulty,
+Scotland Yard is bound to do so before long. The trail is too
+unmistakable. It is impossible--absolutely impossible, I assure you,
+that the secret can be kept."
+
+Cyril moved uneasily.
+
+"I wish I could convince your Lordship of this and induce you to allow
+the law to take its course. Her Ladyship ought to come forward at once
+and plead justifiable homicide. If she waits till she is arrested, it
+will tell heavily against her."
+
+"But she is ill, really ill," insisted Cyril. "Dr. Stuart-Smith tells me
+that if she is not kept perfectly quiet for the next few weeks, her
+nervous system may never recover from the shock."
+
+"H'm! That certainly complicates the situation; on the other hand, you
+must remember that discovery is not only inevitable but imminent, and
+that the police will not stop to consider her Ladyship's nervous system.
+No, my lord, the only thing for you to do is to break the news to her
+yourself and to persuade her to give herself up. If you don't, you will
+both live to regret it."
+
+"That may be so," replied Cyril after a minute's hesitation, "but in
+this matter I must judge for myself. I still hope that you are wrong and
+that either the young woman in question is not Lady Wilmersley or that
+it was not her Ladyship who killed my cousin, and I refuse to jeopardise
+her life till I am sure that there is no possibility of your having made
+a mistake. But don't throw up the case yet. So far you have only sought
+for evidence which would strengthen your theory of her Ladyship's guilt,
+now I want you to look at the case from a fresh point of view. I want
+you to start all over again and to work on the assumption that her
+Ladyship did not fire the shot. I cannot accept your conclusion as final
+till we have exhausted every other possibility. These Frenchmen, for
+instance, have they or have they not a connection with the case? And
+then there is Valdriguez. Why have you never suspected her? At the
+inquest she acknowledged that no one had seen her leave her Ladyship's
+apartments and we have only her word for it that she spent the evening
+in her room."
+
+"True. But, if I went on the principle of suspecting every one who
+cannot prove themselves innocent, I should soon be lost in a quagmire of
+barren conjectures. Of course, I have considered Valdriguez, but I can
+find no reason for suspecting her."
+
+"Well, I could give you a dozen reasons."
+
+"Indeed, my lord, and what are they?"
+
+"In the first place, we know that she is a hard, unprincipled woman, or
+she would never have consented to aid my cousin in depriving his
+unfortunate wife of her liberty. A woman who would do that, is capable
+of any villainy. Then, on the witness-stand didn't you feel that she was
+holding something back? Oh, I forgot you were not present at the
+inquest."
+
+"I was there, my lord, but I took good care that no one should recognise
+me."
+
+"Well, and what impression did she make on you?"
+
+"A fairly favourable one, my lord. I think she spoke the truth and I
+fancy that she is almost a religious fanatic."
+
+"You don't mean to say, Judson, that you allowed yourself to be taken in
+by her sanctimonious airs and the theatrical way that she kept clutching
+at that cross on her breast? A religious fanatic indeed! Why, don't you
+see that no woman with a spark of religion in her could have allowed her
+mistress to be treated as Lady Wilmersley was?"
+
+"Quite so, my lord, and it is because Valdriguez impressed me as an
+honest old creature that I am still doubtful whether her Ladyship is
+insane or not, and this uncertainty hampers me very much in my work."
+
+"Lady Upton assured me that her granddaughter's mind had never been
+unbalanced and that his Lordship, although he frequently wrote to her,
+had never so much as hinted at such a thing; and if you believe the
+young lady at the nursing home to be Lady Wilmersley, I give you my word
+that she shows no sign of mental derangement."
+
+"Well, that seems pretty final, and yet--and yet--I cannot believe that
+Valdriguez is a vicious woman. A man in my profession acquires a curious
+instinct in such matters, my lord." The detective paused a moment and
+when he began again, he spoke almost as if he were reasoning with
+himself. "Now, if my estimate of Valdriguez is correct, and if it is
+also a fact that Lady Wilmersley has never been insane, there are
+certainly possibilities connected with this affair which I have by no
+means exhausted--and so, my lord, I am not only willing but anxious to
+continue on the case, if you will agree to allow me to ignore her
+Ladyship's existence."
+
+"Certainly. But tell me, Judson, how can you hope to reconcile two such
+absolutely contradictory facts?"
+
+"Two such apparently contradictory facts," gently corrected the
+detective. "Well, my lord, I propose to find out more of this woman's
+antecedents. I have several times tried to get her to talk, but so far
+without the least success. She says that she will answer any question
+put to her on the witness-stand, but that it is against her principles
+to gossip about her late master and mistress. She is equally reticent as
+to her past life and when I told her that her silence seemed to me very
+suspicious, she demanded--suspicious of what? She went on to say that
+she could not see that it was anybody's business, where she lived or
+what she had done, and that she had certainly no intention of gratifying
+my idle curiosity; and that was the last word I could get out of her.
+Although she treated me so cavalierly, I confess to a good deal of
+sympathy with her attitude."
+
+"Have you questioned Mrs. Eversley about her?" asked Cyril. "She was
+housekeeper here when Valdriguez first came to Geralton and ought to be
+able to tell you what sort of person she was in her youth."
+
+"Mrs. Eversley speaks well of her. The only thing she told me which may
+have a bearing on the case is, that in the old days his Lordship
+appeared to admire Valdriguez very much."
+
+"Ah! I thought so," cried Cyril.
+
+"But we cannot be too sure of this, my lord. For when I tried to find
+out what grounds she had for her statement, she had so little proof to
+offer that I cannot accept her impression as conclusive evidence. As far
+as I can make out, the gossip about them was started by his Lordship
+going to the Catholic church in Newhaven."
+
+"By going to the Catholic church!" exclaimed Cyril.
+
+"Exactly. Not a very compromising act on his Lordship's part, one would
+think. But as his Lordship was not a Catholic, his doing so naturally
+aroused a good deal of comment. At first the neighbourhood feared that
+he had been converted by his mother, who had often lamented that she had
+not been allowed to bring up her son in her own faith. It was soon
+noticed, however, that whenever his Lordship attended a popish service,
+his mother's pretty maid was invariably present, and so people began to
+put two and two together and before long it was universally assumed that
+she was the magnet which had drawn him away from his own church. I asked
+Mrs. Eversley if they had been seen together elsewhere, and she
+reluctantly admitted that they had. On several occasions they were seen
+walking in the Park but always, so Mrs. Eversley assured me, in full
+view of the castle. She had felt it her duty to speak to Valdriguez on
+the subject, and the latter told her that his Lordship was interested in
+her religion and that she was willing to run the risk of having her
+conduct misconstrued if she could save his soul from eternal damnation.
+She also gave Mrs. Eversley to understand that she had her mistress's
+sanction, and as her Ladyship treated Valdriguez more as a companion and
+friend than as a maid, Mrs. Eversley thought this quite likely and did
+not venture to remonstrate further. So the intimacy, if such it could be
+called, continued as before. What the outcome of this state of things
+would have been we do not know, for shortly afterwards both Lord and
+Lady Wilmersley died and Valdriguez left Geralton. When his Lordship
+went away a few weeks later, a good many people suspected that he had
+joined her on the continent. Mrs. Eversley, however, does not believe
+this. She has the most absolute confidence in Valdriguez's virtue, and I
+think her testimony is pretty reliable."
+
+"Bah! Mrs. Eversley is an honest, simple old soul. A clever adventuress
+would have little difficulty in hoodwinking her. Mark my words, you have
+found the key to the mystery. What more likely than that his
+Lordship--whose morals, even as a boy, were none of the best--seduced
+Valdriguez and that she returned to Geralton so as to have the
+opportunity of avenging her wrongs."
+
+"I can think of nothing more unlikely than that his Lordship should have
+selected his cast-off mistress as his wife's attendant," Judson drily
+remarked.
+
+"Not at all. You didn't know him," replied Cyril. "I can quite fancy
+that the situation would have appealed to his cynical humour."
+
+"Your opinion of the late Lord Wilmersley is certainly not flattering,
+but even if we take for granted that such an arrangement would not have
+been impossible to his Lordship, I still refuse to believe that
+Valdriguez would have agreed to it; even assuming that his Lordship had
+wronged her and that she had nursed a murderous resentment against him
+all these years, I cannot see how she could have hoped to further her
+object by accepting the humiliating position of his wife's maid. It also
+seems to me incredible that a woman whose passions were so violent as to
+find expression in murder could have controlled them during a lifetime.
+But leaving aside these considerations, I have another reason to urge
+against your theory: Would his Lordship have trusted a woman who, he
+knew, had a grievance against him, as he certainly trusted Valdriguez?
+She had free access to his apartments. What was there to have prevented
+her from giving him an overdose of some drug during one of the many
+times when he was half-stupefied with opium? Nothing. The risk of
+detection would have been infinitesimal. No, my lord, why Valdriguez
+returned to Geralton is an enigma, I grant you, but your explanation
+does not satisfy me."
+
+"As long as you acknowledge that Valdriguez's presence here needs an
+explanation and are willing to work to find that explanation, I don't
+care whether you accept my theory or not; all I want to get at is the
+truth."
+
+"The truth, my lord," said the detective, as he rose to take his leave,
+"is often more praised than appreciated."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+FINGER PRINTS IN THE DUST
+
+
+As Cyril sat toying with his dinner, it was little by little borne in on
+him that the butler had something on his mind. How he got this
+impression he really did not know, for Douglas performed his duties as
+precisely, as unobtrusively as ever. Yet long before the last course had
+been reached, Cyril was morally certain that he had not been mistaken.
+He waited for the dessert to be placed on the table; then, having
+motioned the footmen to leave the room, he half turned to the butler,
+who was standing behind his chair.
+
+"Douglas."
+
+"Yes, my lord?" The man stepped forward, so as to face his master.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" asked Cyril, scrutinising the other
+attentively.
+
+The abrupt question seemed neither to surprise nor to discompose the
+butler; yet he hesitated before finally answering:
+
+"I--I don't quite know, my lord."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Cyril impatiently. "You must know whether or not
+something has happened to upset you."
+
+Douglas fidgeted uneasily.
+
+"Well, my lord--it's this way, my lord--Susan, the upper 'ousemaid, says
+as how there has been somebody or--" here his voice sank to a whisper
+and he cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder--"or something in
+the library last night!"
+
+Cyril put down the glass of wine he was carrying to his lips untasted.
+
+"She thinks she saw a ghost in the library?"
+
+"No, my lord. She didn't see anything, but this morning she found
+finger-marks on the top of his Lordship's desk."
+
+"Pooh! What of that? One of the servants may have gone in there out of
+curiosity."
+
+"But what would anybody be doing there in the night, I should like to
+know? And Susan says those marks could only 'ave been made last night,
+my lord."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"On account of the dust, my lord. It takes time for dust to settle and a
+'ousemaid, who knows 'er business, can tell, after she's been in a place
+a couple of months, just about 'ow long it's been since any particular
+piece of furniture has been dusted. Aye, Susan knows, my lord. No young
+'ousemaid can pull the wool over 'er eyes, I can tell you."
+
+"Does every one know of Susan's suspicions?"
+
+"No, my lord. Susan's a sensible woman, and though she was frightened
+something terrible, she only told Mrs. Eversley and Mrs. Eversley told
+me and we three agreed we'd hold our tongues. Every one's that upset as
+it is, that they'd all 'ave 'ighstrikes if they knew that It was
+walking."
+
+"Don't be a fool, Douglas. No one believes in ghosts nowadays. But even
+if there were such things, an intangible spirit couldn't possibly leave
+finger-marks behind it."
+
+"But, my lord, if you'll excuse me, my aunt's cousin--" began the
+butler, but Cyril cut him short.
+
+"I have no time now to hear about your aunt's cousin, though no doubt it
+is a most interesting story. Send Susan to me at once."
+
+"Very good, my lord."
+
+Susan had, however, no further information to impart. She was positive
+that the marks must have been made some time during the night.
+
+"And it's my belief they were made by a skeleton hand," she added. "And
+as for going into that room again, indeed I just couldn't, not for
+nobody, meaning no disrespect to your Lordship; and as for the other
+'ousemaids, they'll not go near the place either and haven't been since
+the murder."
+
+"Very well, Susan, I shall not ask you to do so. Those rooms shall not
+be opened again till this mystery is cleared up. I will go now and lock
+them up myself."
+
+"Thank you, my lord."
+
+Striding rapidly across the hall, Cyril opened the door of the library.
+This part of the castle had been equipped with electric light and steam
+heat, and as he stepped into the darkness, the heavy-scented air almost
+made him reel. Having found the switch, he noticed at once that the room
+had indefinably changed since he had been in it last. Notwithstanding
+the heat, notwithstanding the flood of crimson light, which permeated
+even the farthest corners, it had already assumed the chill, gloomy
+aspect of an abandoned apartment.
+
+Stooping over the desk, he eagerly inspected the marks which had so
+startled the housemaid. Yes, they were still quite visible, although a
+delicate film of dust had already begun to soften the precision of their
+outline--very strange! They certainly did look like the imprint of
+skeleton fingers. He laid his own hand on the desk. His fingers left a
+mark at least twice as wide as those of the mysterious visitant.
+
+For a long time he stood with bent head pondering deeply; then, throwing
+back his shoulders, as if he had arrived at some decision, he proceeded
+to explore the entire suite. Having satisfied himself that no one was
+secreted on the premises, he turned off the light, shut the door--but he
+did not turn the key.
+
+Some hours later Cyril, in his great four-posted bed, lay watching, with
+wide-open eyes, the fantastic shadows thrown by the dancing firelight on
+the panelled walls. To woo sleep was evidently not his intention, for
+from time to time he lighted a wax vesta and consulted the watch he held
+in his hand. At last the hour seemed to satisfy him, for he got out of
+bed and made a hasty toilet. Having accomplished this as best he could
+in the semi-obscurity, he slipped a pistol into his pocket and left his
+room.
+
+Groping his way through the darkness, he descended the stairs and
+cautiously traversed the hall. Not a sound did he make. His stockinged
+feet moved noiselessly over the heavy carpet. At the door of the library
+he paused a moment and listened intently; then, pistol in hand, he threw
+open the door. Darkness and silence alone confronted him. Closing the
+door behind him, he lighted a match and carefully inspected the desk.
+Having assured himself that no fresh marks had appeared on its polished
+surface, he blew out the match and ensconced himself as comfortably as
+the limited space permitted behind the curtains of one of the windows.
+There he waited patiently for what seemed to him an eternity. He had
+just begun to fear that his vigil would prove fruitless, when his ear
+was gladdened by a slight sound. A moment later the light was switched
+on. Hardly daring to breathe, Cyril peered through the curtains.
+Valdriguez! Cyril's heart gave a bound of exultation. Had he not guessed
+that those marks could only have been made by her small, bony fingers?
+
+Clad like a nun in a loose, black garment, which fell in straight,
+austere folds to her feet; a black shawl, thrown over her head, casting
+strange shadows on her pale, haggard face, she advanced slowly, almost
+majestically, into the room. Cyril had to acknowledge that she looked
+more like a medieval saint than a midnight marauder.
+
+Evidently the woman had no fear of detection, for she never even cast
+one suspicious glance around her; nor did she appear to feel that there
+was any necessity for haste, for she lingered for some time near the
+writing-table, gazing at it, as if it had a fascination for her; but,
+finally, she turned away with a hopeless sigh and directed her attention
+to the bookcase. This she proceeded to examine in the most methodical
+manner. Book after book was taken down, shaken, and the binding
+carefully scrutinised. Having cleared a shelf, she drew a tape measure
+from her pocket and rapped and measured the back and sides of the case
+itself.
+
+What on earth could she be looking for, wondered Cyril. Not a will,
+surely? For his cousin's will, executed at the date of his marriage, had
+been found safely deposited with his solicitor. A later will, perhaps?
+One in which she hoped that her master had remembered her, as he had
+probably promised her that he would? Yes, that must be it.
+
+Well, there was no further need of concealment, he decided, so, parting
+the curtains, he stepped into the room.
+
+"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
+
+His own voice startled him, it rang out so loud and harsh in the silence
+of the night.
+
+Valdriguez knelt on the floor with her back to him, and it seemed as if
+the sudden shock had paralysed her, for she made no effort to move, and
+her hand, arrested in the act of replacing a book, remained
+outstretched, as if it had been turned to stone.
+
+"It is I, your master. What are you doing here?" he repeated.
+
+He saw her shudder convulsively, then slowly she raised her head, and as
+her great, tragic eyes met his, Cyril was conscious of a revulsion of
+feeling toward her. Never had he seen anything so hopeless yet so
+undaunted as the look she gave him. It reminded him, curiously enough,
+of a look he had once seen in the eyes of a lioness, who, with a bullet
+through her heart, still fought to protect her young.
+
+Staggering a little as she rose, Valdriguez nevertheless managed to draw
+herself up to her full height.
+
+"I am here, my lord, to get what is mine--mine," she repeated almost
+fiercely.
+
+Cyril pulled himself together. It was absurd, he reasoned, to allow
+himself to be impressed by her strange personality.
+
+"A likely story!" he exclaimed; and the very fact that he was more than
+half-inclined to believe her, made him speak more roughly than he would
+otherwise have done.
+
+"Think what you like," she cried, shrugging her shoulders
+contemptuously. "Have me arrested--have me hung--what do I care? Death
+has no terrors for me."
+
+"So you confess that it was you who murdered his Lordship? Ah, I
+suspected it! Your sanctimonious airs didn't deceive me," exclaimed
+Cyril triumphantly.
+
+"No, I did not murder him," she replied calmly, almost indifferently.
+
+"I think you will have some difficulty convincing the police of that.
+You have no alibi to prove that you were not in these rooms at the time
+of the murder, and now when I tell them that I found you trying to
+steal----"
+
+"I am no thief," she interrupted him with blazing eyes. "I tell you, I
+came here to get what is mine by right."
+
+"Do you really expect me to believe that? Even if what you say were
+true, you would not have had to sneak in here in the middle of the
+night. You know very well that I should have made no objections to your
+claiming your own."
+
+"So you say. But if I had gone to you and told you that a great lord had
+robbed me, a poor woman, of something which is dearer to me than life
+itself, would you have believed me? If I had said to you, 'I must look
+through his Lordship's papers; I must be free to search everywhere,'
+would you have given me permission to do so? No, never. You think I fear
+you? That it was because I was ashamed of my errand that I came here at
+this hour? Bah! All I feared was that I should be prevented from
+discovering the truth. The truth?" Valdriguez's voice suddenly dropped
+and she seemed to forget Cyril's presence. "It is here, somewhere." She
+continued speaking as if to herself and her wild eyes swept feverishly
+around the room. "He told me it was here--and yet how can I be sure of
+it? He may have lied to me about this as he did about everything else.
+How can I tell? Oh, this uncertainty is torture! I cannot bear it any
+longer, oh, my God!" she cried, clasping her hands and lifting her
+streaming eyes to heaven, "Thou knowest that I have striven all my life
+to do Thy will; I have borne the cross that Thou sawest fit to lay upon
+me without a murmur, nor have I once begged for mercy at Thy hands; but
+now, now, oh, my Father, I beseech thee, give me to know the truth
+before I die----"
+
+Cyril watched the woman narrowly. He felt that he must try and maintain
+a judicial attitude toward her and not allow himself to be led astray by
+his sympathies which, as he knew to his cost, were only too easily
+aroused. After all, he reasoned, was it not more than likely that she
+was delivering this melodramatic tirade for his benefit? On the other
+hand, it was against his principles as well as against his inclinations
+to deal harshly with a woman.
+
+"Calm yourself, Valdriguez," he said at last. "If you can convince me
+that his Lordship had in his possession something which rightfully
+belonged to you, I promise that, if it can be found, it shall be
+restored to you. Tell me, what it is that you are looking for?"
+
+"Tell you--never! Are you not of his blood? You promise--so did he--the
+smooth-tongued villain! All these years have I lived on promises! Never
+will I trust one of his race again."
+
+"You have got to trust me whether you want to or not. Your position
+could not be worse than it is, could it? Don't you see that your only
+hope lies in being able to persuade me that you are an honest woman?"
+
+For the first time Valdriguez looked at Cyril attentively. He felt as if
+her great eyes were probing his very soul.
+
+"Indeed, you do not look cruel or deceitful. And, as you say, I am
+powerless without you, so I must take the risk of your being what you
+seem. I will tell you the truth. But first, my lord, will you swear not
+to betray my secret to any living being?"
+
+"You have my word for it. That is--" he hastily added, "if it has
+nothing to do with the murder."
+
+"Nothing, my lord."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE STORY OF A WRONG
+
+
+Cyril waited for her to continue, but for a long time it seemed doubtful
+if she would have the courage to do so.
+
+"I am looking," she said at last, speaking slowly and with a visible
+effort, "for a paper which will tell me whether my--son is alive or
+dead."
+
+"Your son? So you were his Lordship's mistress----"
+
+"Before God I was his wife! I am no wanton, my lord!"
+
+"The old story--" began Cyril, but Valdriguez stopped him with a furious
+gesture.
+
+"Do not dare to say that my child's mother was a loose woman! I will not
+permit it. Arthur Wilmersley--may his Maker judge him as he
+deserves--wrecked my life, but at least he never doubted my virtue. He
+knew that the only way to get me was to marry me."
+
+"So he actually married you?" exclaimed Cyril.
+
+"No--but for a long time I believed that he had. How could a young,
+innocent girl have suspected that the man she loved was capable of such
+cold-blooded deception? Even now, I cannot blame myself for having
+fallen into the trap he baited with such fiendish cunning. Think of
+it--he induced me to consent to a secret marriage by promising that if I
+made this sacrifice for his sake, he would become a convert to my
+religion--my religion! And as we stood together before the altar, I
+remember that I thanked God for giving me this opportunity of saving a
+soul from destruction. I never dreamed that the church he took me to was
+nothing but an old ruin he had fitted up as a chapel for the occasion.
+How could I guess that the man who married us was not a priest but a
+mountebank, whom he had hired to act the part?"
+
+Valdriguez bowed her head and the tears trickled through her thin
+fingers.
+
+"I know that not many people would believe you but, well--I do." It
+seemed to Cyril as if the words sprang to his lips unbidden.
+
+"Then indeed you are a good man," exclaimed Valdriguez, "for it is given
+only to honest people to have a sure ear for the truth. Now it will be
+easier to tell you the rest. Some weeks after we had gone through this
+ceremony, first Lord and then Lady Wilmersley died; on her deathbed I
+confided to my lady that I was her son's wife and she gave me her
+blessing. My humble birth she forgave--after all it was less humble than
+her own--and was content that her son had chosen a girl of her own race
+and faith. As soon as the funeral was over, I urged my husband to
+announce our marriage, but he would not. He proposed that we should go
+for a while to the continent so that on our return it would be taken for
+granted that we had been married there, and in this way much unpleasant
+talk avoided. So we went to Paris and there we lived together openly as
+man and wife, not indeed under his name but under mine. He pretended
+that he wanted for once to see the world from the standpoint of the
+people; that he desired for a short time to be free from the
+restrictions of his rank. I myself dreaded so much entering a class so
+far above me that I was glad of the chance of spending a few more months
+in obscurity. For some weeks I was happy, then Lord Wilmersley began to
+show himself to me as he really was. We had taken a large apartment near
+the Luxembourg, and soon it became the meeting-ground for the most
+reckless element of the Latin Quarter. Ah, if you but knew what sights I
+saw, what things I heard in those days! I feared that my very soul was
+being polluted, so I consulted a priest as to what I should do. He told
+me it was my duty to remain constantly at my husband's side; with prayer
+and patience I might some day succeed in reforming him. So I stayed in
+that hell and bore the insults and humiliations he heaped upon me
+without a murmur. Now, looking back on the past, I think my meekness and
+resignation only exasperated him, for he grew more and more cruel and
+seemed to think of nothing but how to torture me into revolt. Whether I
+should have been given the strength to endure indefinitely, the life he
+led me I do not know, but one evening, when we were as usual
+entertaining a disreputable rabble, a young man entered. I recognised
+him at once. It was the man who had married us! He was dressed in a
+brown velveteen suit; a red sash encircled his waist; and on his arm he
+flaunted a painted woman. Imagine my feelings! I stood up and turned to
+my husband. I could not speak--and he, the man I had loved, only
+laughed--laughed! Never shall I forget the sound of that laughter....
+
+"That night my child was born. That was twenty-eight years ago, but it
+seems as if it were but yesterday that I held his small, warm body in my
+arms.... Then comes a period of which I remember nothing, and when I
+finally recovered my senses, they told me my child was dead.... As soon
+as I was able to travel, I returned to my old home in Seville and there
+I lived, working and praying--praying for my own soul and for that of my
+poor baby, who had died without receiving the sacrament of baptism....
+Years passed. I had become resigned to my lot, when one day I received a
+letter from Lord Wilmersley. Oh! If I had only destroyed it unopened,
+how much anguish would have been spared me! But at first when I read it,
+I thought my happiness would have killed me, for Lord Wilmersley wrote
+that my boy was not dead and that if I would meet him in Paris, he would
+give me further news of him. I hesitated not a moment. At once did I set
+out on my journey. On arriving in Paris I went to the hotel he had
+indicated and was shown into a private _salon_. There for the first time
+in a quarter of a century I saw again the man I had once regarded as my
+husband. At first I had difficulty in recognising him, for now his true
+character was written in every line of his face and figure. But I hardly
+gave a thought either to him or to my wrongs, so great was my impatience
+to hear news of my son.... Then that fiend began to play with me as a
+cat with a mouse. Yes, my boy lived, had made his way in the world--that
+was all he would tell me. My child had been adopted by some well-to-do
+people, who had brought him up as their own--no, I needn't expect to
+hear another word. Yes, he was a fine, strong lad--he would say no
+more.... Can you imagine the scene? Finally, having wrought me up to the
+point where I would have done anything to wring the truth from him, he
+said to me: 'I have recently married a young wife and I am not such a
+fool as to trust my honour in the keeping of a girl who married an old
+man like me for his money. Now I have a plan to propose to you. Come and
+live with her as her maid and help me to guard her from all eyes, and if
+you fulfil your duties faithfully, at the end of three years I promise
+that you shall see your son.'
+
+"His revolting proposition made my blood boil. Never, never, I told him,
+would I accept such a humiliating situation. He merely shrugged his
+shoulders and said that in that case I need never hope to hear what had
+become of my son. I raved, threatened, pleaded, but he remained
+inflexible, and finally I agreed to do his bidding."
+
+"So you, who call yourself a Christian, actually consented to help that
+wretch to persecute his unfortunate young wife?" demanded Cyril sternly.
+
+Valdriguez flung her head back defiantly.
+
+"His wife? What was she to me? Besides, had she not taken him for better
+or worse? Why should I have helped her to break the bonds her own vows
+had imposed on her? He did not ill-treat her, far from it. He deprived
+her of her liberty, but what of that? A nun has even less freedom than
+she had. What were her sufferings compared to mine? Think of it, day
+after day I had to stand aside and watch the man I had once looked upon
+as my husband, lavish his love, his thought, his very life indeed, on
+that pretty doll. Although I no longer loved him, my flesh quivered at
+the sight."
+
+"Nevertheless--" began Cyril.
+
+"My lord, I care not for your judgment nor for that of any man. I came
+here to find my son. Would you have had me give up that sacred task
+because a pink and white baby wanted to flaunt her beauty before the
+world? Ah, no! Lady Wilmersley's fate troubles me not at all; but what
+breaks my heart is that, as Arthur died just before the three years were
+up, I fear that now I shall never know what has become of my boy.
+Sometimes I have feared that he is dead--but no, I will not believe it!
+My boy lives! I feel it!" she cried, striking her breast. "And in this
+room--perhaps within reach of my hand as I stand here--is the paper
+which would tell me where he is. Ah, my lord, I beg, I entreat you to
+help me to find it!"
+
+"I will gladly do so, but what reason have you for supposing that there
+is such a paper?"
+
+"It is true that I have only Lord Wilmersley's word for it," she
+replied, and her voice sounded suddenly hopeless. "Yet not once but many
+times he said to me: 'I have a paper in which is written all you wish to
+know, but as I do not trust you, I have hidden it, yes, in this very
+room have I hidden it.' And now he is dead and I cannot find it! Oh,
+what shall I do? What shall I do?"
+
+"Even if we cannot find the paper, there are other means of tracing your
+son. We will advertise----"
+
+"Never!" she interrupted him vehemently. "I will never consent to do
+anything which might reveal to him the secret of his birth. I would long
+ago have taken steps to find him, if I had not realised that I could not
+do so without taking a number of people into my confidence, and, if I
+did that, the story of my shame would be bound to leak out. Not for
+myself did I care, but for him. Think of it, if what Lord Wilmersley
+told me was true, he holds an honourable position, believes himself the
+son of respectable parents. Would it not be horrible, if he should
+suddenly learn that he is the nameless child of a servant girl and a
+villain? The fear that he should somehow discover the truth is always
+before me. That is why I made you swear to keep my secret."
+
+"Of course, I will do as you wish, but I assure you that you exaggerate
+the risk. Still, let us first search this room thoroughly; then, if we
+do not find the paper, it will be time enough to decide what we shall do
+next."
+
+"Ah, my lord, you are very good to me and may God reward you as you
+deserve. Day and night will I pray for you." And to Cyril's dismay,
+Valdriguez suddenly bent down and covered his hands with kisses.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+GUY RELENTS
+
+
+Cyril and Valdriguez spent the next morning making a thorough search of
+the library, but the paper they were looking for could not be found.
+Cyril had from the first been sceptical of success. He could not believe
+that her child was still alive and was convinced that Arthur Wilmersley
+had fabricated the story simply to retain his hold over the unfortunate
+mother. Valdriguez, however, for a long time refused to abandon the
+quest. Again and again she ransacked places they had already carefully
+examined. When it was finally borne in upon her that there was no
+further possibility of finding what she so sought, the light suddenly
+went out of her face and she would have fallen if Cyril had not caught
+her and placed her in a chair. With arms hanging limply to her sides,
+her half-closed eyes fixed vacantly in front of her, she looked as if
+death had laid his hand upon her. Thoroughly alarmed, Cyril had the
+woman carried to her room and sent for a doctor. When the latter
+arrived, he shook his head hopelessly. She had had a stroke; there was
+very little he could do for her. In his opinion it was extremely
+doubtful if she would ever fully recover her faculties, he said.
+
+Cyril having made every possible arrangement for the comfort of the
+afflicted woman, at last allowed his thoughts to revert to his own
+troubles.
+
+He realised that with the elimination of both Valdriguez and Prentice
+there was no one but Anita left who could reasonably be suspected of the
+murder; for that the two Frenchmen were implicated in the affair, was
+too remote a possibility to be seriously considered. No, he must make up
+his mind to face the facts: the girl was Anita Wilmersley and she had
+killed her husband! What was he going to do, now that he knew the truth?
+Judson's advice that Anita should give herself up, he rejected without a
+moment's hesitation. Yet, he had to acknowledge that there was little
+hope of her being able to escape detection, as long as the police knew
+her to be alive.... Suddenly an idea occurred to him. If they could only
+be made to believe that she was dead, that and that alone would free her
+at once and forever from their surveillance. She would be able to leave
+England; to resume her life in some distant country where he.... Cyril
+shrank instinctively from pursuing the delicious dream further. He tried
+to force himself to consider judicially the scheme that was shaping
+itself in his mind; to weigh calmly and dispassionately the chances for
+and against its success. If a corpse resembling Anita were found,
+dressed in the clothes she wore the day she left Geralton, it would
+surely be taken for granted that the body was hers and that she had been
+murdered. But how on earth was he to procure such a corpse and, having
+procured it, where was he to hide it? The neighbourhood of the castle
+had been so thoroughly searched that it would be no easy task to
+persuade the police that they had overlooked any spot where a body might
+be secreted. Certainly the plan presented almost insurmountable
+difficulties, but as it was the only one he could think of, Cyril clung
+to it with bull-dog tenacity.
+
+"Impossible? Nonsense! Nothing is impossible! Impossible is but a word
+designed to shield the incompetent or frighten the timid," he muttered
+loudly in his heart, unconsciously squaring his broad shoulders.
+
+He decided to leave Geralton at once, for the plan must be carried out
+immediately or not at all, and it was only in London that he could hope
+to procure the necessary assistance.
+
+On arriving in town, however, Cyril had to admit that he had really no
+idea what he ought to do next. If he could only get in touch with an
+impoverished medical student who would agree to provide a body, the
+first and most difficult part of his undertaking would be achieved. But
+how and where was he to find this indispensable accomplice? Well, it was
+too late to do anything that evening, he decided. He might as well go to
+the club and get some dinner and try to dismiss the problem from his
+mind for the time being.
+
+The first person he saw on entering the dining-room was Campbell. He was
+sitting by himself at a small table; his round, rosy face depicted the
+utmost dejection and he thrust his fork through an oyster with much the
+same expression a man might have worn who was spearing a personal enemy.
+
+On catching sight of Cyril, he dropped his fork, jumped from his seat,
+and made an eager step forward. Then, he suddenly wavered, evidently
+uncertain as to the reception Cyril was going to accord him.
+
+"Well, this is a piece of luck!" cried Cyril, stretching out his hand.
+
+Guy, looking decidedly sheepish, clasped it eagerly.
+
+"I might as well tell you at once that I know I made no end of an ass of
+myself the other day," he said, averting his eyes from his friend's
+face. "It is really pretty decent of you not to have resented my
+ridiculous accusations."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," Cyril assured him, "I quite understood your
+motive. But I am awfully glad you have changed your attitude towards me,
+for to tell you the truth, I am in great need of your assistance."
+
+"Oh, Lor'!" ejaculated Campbell, screwing up his face into an expression
+of comic despair.
+
+As soon as there was no danger of their being overheard, Cyril told
+Campbell of his interview with Judson. At first Guy could not be
+persuaded that the girl was Anita Wilmersley.
+
+"She is not a liar, I am sure of it! If she said that her hair had
+turned white, it had turned white, and therefore it is impossible that
+she had dyed it," objected Campbell.
+
+"Judson suggested that she dyed only part of her hair and that it was
+the rest which turned white."
+
+Having finally convinced Guy that there was no doubt as to the girl's
+identity, Cyril proceeded to unfold his plan for rescuing her from the
+police.
+
+Guy adjusted his eye-glass and stared at his friend speechless with
+consternation.
+
+"This affair has turned your brain," he finally gasped. "Your plan is
+absurd, absolutely absurd, I tell you. Why, even if I could bribe some
+one to procure me a corpse, how on earth could you get it to Geralton?"
+
+"In a motor-car."
+
+"And where under Heaven are you to hide it?"
+
+"Get me a corpse and I will arrange the rest," Cyril assured him with
+more confidence than he really felt.
+
+"First you saddle me with a lot of stolen jewels and now you want me to
+travel around the country with a corpse under my arm! I say, you do
+select nice, pleasant jobs for me!" exclaimed Campbell.
+
+"Have you any other plan to suggest?" asked Cyril.
+
+"Can't say I have," acknowledged Guy.
+
+"Are you willing to sit still and see Anita Wilmersley arrested?"
+
+"Certainly not, but your scheme is a mad one--madder than anything I
+should have credited even you with having conceived." Campbell paused a
+moment as if considering the question in all its aspects. "However, the
+fact that it is crazy may save us. The police will not be likely to
+suspect two reputable members of society, whose sanity has so far not
+been doubted, of attempting to carry through such a wild, impossible
+plot. Yes," he mused, "the very impossibility of the thing may make it
+possible."
+
+"Glad you agree with me," cried Cyril enthusiastically. "Now how soon
+can you get a corpse, do you think?"
+
+"Good Lord, man! You talk as if I could order one from Whiteley's. When
+can I get you a corpse--indeed? To-morrow--in a week--a month--a
+year--never. The last-mentioned date I consider the most likely. I will
+do what I can, that is all I can say; but how I am to go to work, upon
+my word, I haven't the faintest idea."
+
+"You are an awfully clever chap, Guy."
+
+"None of your blarney. I won't have it! I am the absolute fool, but I am
+still sane enough to know it."
+
+"Very well, I'll acknowledge that you are a fool and I only wish there
+were more like you," said Cyril, clapping his friend affectionately on
+the back.
+
+"By the way," he added, turning away as if in search of a match and
+trying to speak as carelessly as possible, "How is Anita?"
+
+For a moment Guy did not answer and Cyril stood fumbling with the
+matches fearful of the effect of the question. He was still doubtful how
+far his friend had receded from his former position and was much
+relieved when Guy finally answered in a very subdued voice:
+
+"She is pretty well--but--" He hesitated.
+
+Cyril turned quickly round. He noticed that Guy's face had lengthened
+perceptibly and that he toyed nervously with his eye-glass.
+
+"What is the matter?" he inquired anxiously.
+
+"The fact is," replied Campbell, speaking slowly and carefully avoiding
+the other's eye, "I think it is possible that she misses you."
+
+Cyril's heart gave a sudden jump.
+
+"I can hardly believe it," he managed to stutter.
+
+"Of course, Miss Trevor may be mistaken. It was her idea, not mine, that
+Ani--Lady Wilmersley I mean--is worrying over your absence. But whatever
+the cause, the fact remains that she has changed very much. She is no
+longer frank and cordial in her manner either to Miss Trevor or myself.
+It seems almost as if she regarded us both with suspicion, though what
+she can possibly suspect us of, I can't for the life of me imagine. That
+day at lunch she was gay as a child, but now she is never anything but
+sad and preoccupied."
+
+"Perhaps she is beginning to remember the past," suggested Cyril.
+
+"How can I tell? Miss Trevor and I have tried everything we could think
+of to induce her to confide in us, but she won't. Possibly you might be
+more successful--" An involuntary sigh escaped Campbell. "I am sorry now
+that I prevented you from seeing her. Mind you, I still think it wiser
+not to do so, but I ought to have left you free to use your own
+judgment. The number of her sitting-room is 62, on the second floor and,
+for some reason or other, she insists on being left there alone every
+afternoon from three to four. Now I have told you all I know of the
+situation and you must handle it as you think best."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+A SLIP OF THE TONGUE
+
+
+Cyril spent the night in a state of pitiable indecision. Should he or
+should he not risk a visit to Anita? If the police were shadowing him,
+it would be fatal, but he had somehow lately acquired the conviction
+that they were not. On the other hand, if he could only see her, how it
+would simplify everything! As she distrusted both Guy and Miss Trevor,
+even if his plot succeeded, she would probably refuse to leave England
+unless he himself told her that he wished her to do so. Besides, there
+were so many details to be discussed, so many arrangements to be talked
+over. "Yes," he said to himself as he lay staring into the darkness, "it
+is my duty to see her. I shall go to her not because I want to...." A
+horrid doubt made him pause. Was he so sure that his decision was not
+the outcome of his own desire? How could he trust his judgment in a
+matter where his inclinations were so deeply involved? Yet it would be
+shocking if he allowed his own feelings to induce him to do something
+which might be injurious to Anita. It was a nice question to determine
+whether her need of him was sufficient to justify him in risking a
+visit? For hours he debated with himself but could arrive at no
+conclusion. No sooner did he resolve to stay away from her than the
+thought of her unhappiness again made him waver. If he only knew why she
+was so unhappy, he told himself that the situation would not be so
+unendurable. When he had talked to her over the telephone, she had
+seemed cheerful; she had spoken of Guy and Miss Trevor with enthusiasm.
+What could have occurred since then to make her distrust them and to
+plunge her into such a state of gloom? As he tossed to and fro on his
+hot, tumbled bed, his imagination pictured one dire possibility after
+another, till at last he made up his mind that he could bear the
+uncertainty no longer. He must see her! He would see her!
+
+Having reached this decision, Cyril could hardly refrain from rushing
+off to her as soon as it was light. However, he had to curb his
+impatience. Three o'clock was the only hour he could be sure of finding
+her alone; so he must wait till three o'clock. But how on earth, he
+asked himself, was he going to get through the intervening time? He was
+in a state of feverish restlessness that was almost agony; he could not
+apply himself to anything; he could only wait--wait. Although he knew
+that there was no chance of his meeting Anita, he haunted the
+neighbourhood of the "George" all the morning. Every few minutes he
+consulted his watch and the progress of the hands seemed to him so
+incredibly slow that more than once he thought that it must have stopped
+altogether. Finally, finally, the hour struck.
+
+Flinging back his shoulders and assuming a carelessness that almost
+amounted to a swagger, Cyril entered the hotel. He was so self-conscious
+that it was with considerable surprise as well as relief that he noticed
+that no one paid the slightest attention to him. Even the porter hardly
+glanced at him, being at the moment engaged in speeding a parting guest.
+
+Cyril decided to use the stairs in preference to the lift, as they were
+less frequented than the latter, and as it happened, he made his way up
+to the second landing without encountering anybody.
+
+There, however, he came face to face with a pretty housemaid, who to his
+dismay looked at him attentively. Cyril went cold all over. Had he but
+known it, she had been attracted by his tall, soldierly figure and had
+merely offered him the tribute of an admiring glance. But this
+explanation never occurred to our modest hero and he hurried, quite
+absurdly flustered by this trifling incident. He found that No. 62
+opened on a small, ill-lighted hall, which was for the moment completely
+deserted.
+
+Now that he actually stood on the threshold of Anita's room, Cyril felt
+a curious reluctance to proceed farther. It was unwise.... She might not
+want to see him.... But even as these objections flashed through his
+mind, he knocked almost involuntarily.
+
+"Come in."
+
+Yet he still hesitated. His heart was beating like a sledge-hammer and
+his hands were trembling. Never had he experienced such a curious
+sensation before and he wondered vaguely what could be the matter with
+him.
+
+"I can't stand here forever," he said in his heart. "I wanted to see
+her; well then, why don't I open the door? I am behaving like a fool!"
+
+Still reasoning with himself, he finally entered the room.
+
+A bright fire was burning on the hearth and before it were heaped a
+number of cushions and from this lowly seat Anita had apparently hastily
+arisen. The length of time he had taken to answer her summons had
+evidently alarmed her, for she stood like a creature at bay, her eyes
+wide open and frightened. On recognising Cyril a deep blush suffused her
+face and even coloured the whiteness of her throat.
+
+"So it was you!" she exclaimed.
+
+Her relief was obvious, yet her manner was distant, almost repellent.
+Cyril had confidently anticipated such a different reception that her
+unexpected coldness completed his discomfiture. He felt as if the
+foundations of his world were giving away beneath his feet. He managed,
+however, to murmur something, he knew not what. The pounding of his
+heart prevented him from thinking coherently. When his emotion had
+subsided sufficiently for him to realise what he was doing, he found
+himself sitting stiffly on one side of the fire with Anita sitting
+equally stiffly on the other. She was talking--no, rather she was
+engaging him in polite conversation. How long she had been doing so he
+did not know, but he gathered that it could not have been long, as she
+was still on the subject of the weather.
+
+"It has been atrocious in London. I hope you had better luck in the
+country. To-day has been especially disagreeable," she was saying.
+
+Cyril abused the weather with a vigour which was rather surprising, in
+view of the fact that till she had mentioned it, he had been sublimely
+unconscious whether the sun had been shining or not. But finally even
+that prolific topic was exhausted and as no other apparently suggested
+itself to either, they relapsed into a constrained silence.
+
+Cyril was suffering acutely. He had so longed to see her, and now an
+impalpable barrier had somehow arisen between them which separated them
+more completely than mere bricks and mortar, than any distance could
+have done. True, he could feast his eyes on her cameo-like profile; on
+the soft curve of her cheek; on the long, golden-tipped lashes; on the
+slender, white throat, which rose like a column from the laces of her
+dress. But he dared not look at her too long. Cyril was not
+introspective and was only dimly aware of the cause of the turmoil which
+was raging in his heart. He did not know that he averted his eyes for
+fear that the primitive male within him would break loose from the
+fetters of his will and forcibly seize the small creature so temptingly
+within his reach.
+
+"If I only knew what I have done to displease her!" he said to himself.
+
+He longed to question her, but she held herself so rigidly aloof that he
+had not the courage to do so. It was in vain that he told himself that
+her coldness simplified the situation; that it would have been terrible
+to have had to repel her advances; but he could find no consolation in
+the thought. In speechless misery he sat gazing into the fire.
+
+Suddenly he thrilled with the consciousness that she was looking at him.
+He turned towards her and their eyes met.
+
+The glance they exchanged was of the briefest duration, but it sufficed
+to lift the weight which had been crushing him. He leaned eagerly
+forward.
+
+"Have I offended you?" he asked.
+
+The corners of her mouth quivered slightly, but she did not answer.
+
+"If I have," he continued, "I assure you it was quite unintentionally.
+Why, I would give my life to save you a moment's pain. Can't you feel
+that I am speaking the truth?"
+
+She turned her face towards him, and as he looked at her, Cyril realised
+that it was not only her manner which had altered; she herself had
+mysteriously altered. At first he could not define wherein the
+difference lay, but suddenly it flashed upon him. It was the expression
+of her eyes which had changed. Heretofore he had been confident that
+they reflected her every emotion; but now they were inscrutable. It was
+as if she had drawn a veil over her soul.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," she said. There was more than a hint of
+hostility in her voice.
+
+The evasion angered him.
+
+"That is impossible! Why not be frank with me? If my visit is
+distasteful to you, you have only to say so and I will go."
+
+As she did not immediately answer, he added:
+
+"Perhaps I had better go." His tone, however, somehow implied more of a
+threat than a suggestion; for since they had exchanged that fleeting
+glance Cyril had felt unreasonably reassured. Despite her coldness, the
+memory of her tender entreaties for his speedy return, buoyed up his
+conceit. She could not be as indifferent to him as she seemed, he argued
+to himself. However, as the moments passed and she offered no objection
+to his leaving her, his newly-aroused confidence evaporated.
+
+"She does not want me!" he muttered to himself. "I must go." But he made
+no motion to do so; he could not.
+
+"I can't leave her till I know how I have offended her.... There are so
+many arrangements to be made.... I must get in touch with her again,--"
+were some of the excuses with which he tried to convince himself that he
+had a right to linger.
+
+He tried to read her face, but she had averted her head till he could
+see nothing but one small, pink ear, peeping from beneath her curls.
+
+Her silence exasperated him.
+
+"Why don't you speak to me? Why do you treat me like this?" he demanded
+almost fiercely.
+
+"It is a little difficult to know how you wish to be treated!" Her
+manner was icy, but his relief was so intense that he scarcely noticed
+it.
+
+"She is piqued!" he cried exultingly in his heart. "She is piqued, that
+is the whole trouble." He felt a man once more, master of the situation.
+"She probably expected me to--" He shrank from pursuing the thought any
+further as the hot blood surged to his face. He was again conscious of
+his helplessness. What could he say to her?
+
+"Oh, if you could only understand!" he exclaimed aloud. "I suppose you
+think me cold and unfeeling? I only wish I were!... Oh, this is
+torture!"
+
+She seemed startled by his vehemence, for she looked up at him timidly.
+
+"Can't you trust me?" he continued. "Won't you tell me what has come
+between us?"
+
+Two big tears gathered in her eyes.
+
+The sight was too much for Cyril. Right and wrong ceased to exist for
+him. He forgot everything; stooping forward he gathered her into his
+arms and crushed her small body against his heart.
+
+She thrust him from her with unexpected force and stood before him with
+blazing eyes.
+
+"You cannot treat me like a child, who can be neglected one day and
+fondled the next! I won't have it! At the nursing home I was too weak
+and confused to realise how strangely you were behaving, but now I know.
+You dare to complain of my coldness--my coldness indeed! Is my coldness
+a match to yours? Why do you suddenly pretend to love me?"
+
+He interrupted her with a vigorous protest.
+
+"If you do, then your conduct is all the more inexplicable. If you do,
+then I ask you, what is it, who is it, that stands between us?"
+
+"If I could tell you, don't you suppose I would?" declared Cyril.
+
+"Then there is some one, some person who is keeping us apart!"
+
+"No--oh, not exactly."
+
+"Ah, you see, you can't deny it! There is another woman in your life. I
+know it! I felt it!"
+
+"No--no! I love you!" cried Cyril.
+
+He hardly knew what he was saying; the words seemed to have leaped to
+his lips.
+
+She regarded him for a second in silence evidently only partially
+convinced.
+
+Cyril felt horribly guilty. He had momentarily forgotten his wife, and
+although he tried to convince himself that he had spoken the truth and
+that it was not she who was keeping them apart, yet he had to
+acknowledge that if he had been free, he would certainly have behaved
+very differently towards Anita. So in a sense he had lied to her and as
+he realised this, his eyes sank before hers. She did not fail to note
+his embarrassment and pressed her point inexorably.
+
+"Swear that there is no other woman who has a claim on you and I will
+believe you."
+
+He could not lie to her in cold blood. Yet to tell her the truth was
+also out of the question, he said to himself.
+
+While he still hesitated, she continued more vehemently.
+
+"I don't ask you to tell me anything of your past or my past, if you had
+rather not do so. One thing, however, I must and will know--who is this
+woman and what are her pretensions?"
+
+"I--I cannot tell you," he said at last. "I only wish I could. Some day,
+I promise you, you shall know everything, but now it is impossible. But
+this much I will say--I love you as I have never loved any one in my
+whole life."
+
+She trembled from head to foot and half closed her eyes.
+
+For a moment neither spoke. Cyril felt that this very silence
+established a communion between them, more complete, more intense than
+any words could have done. But as he gazed at the small, drooping
+figure, he felt that his self-control was deserting him completely. He
+almost reeled with the violence of his emotion.
+
+"I can't stand it another moment," he said to himself. "I must go
+before--" He did not finish the sentence but clenched his hands till the
+knuckles showed white through the skin.
+
+He rose to his feet.
+
+"I can't stay!" he exclaimed aloud. "Forgive me, Anita. I can't tell you
+what I feel. Good-bye!" He murmured incoherently and seizing her hands,
+he pressed them for an instant against his lips, then dropping them
+abruptly, he fled from the room.
+
+Cyril in his excitement had not noticed that he had called Anita by her
+name nor did he perceive the start she gave when she heard it. After the
+door had clicked behind him, she sat as if turned to stone, white to her
+very lips.
+
+Slowly, as if with an effort, her lips moved.
+
+"Anita?" she whispered to herself. "Anita?" she repeated over and over
+again as if she were trying to learn a difficult lesson.
+
+Suddenly a great light broke over her face.
+
+"I am Anita Wilmersley!" she cried aloud.
+
+But the tension had been too great; with a little gasp she sank fainting
+to the floor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
+
+
+What he did during the next few hours, Cyril never quite knew. He
+retained a vague impression of wandering through endless streets and of
+being now and then arrested in his heedless course by the angry
+imprecations of some wayfarer he had inadvertently jostled or of some
+Jehu whose progress he was blocking.
+
+How could he have behaved like such a fool, he kept asking himself. He
+had not said a thing to Anita that he had meant to say--not one. Worse
+still, he had told her that he loved her! He had even held her in his
+arms! Cyril tried not to exult at the thought. He told himself again and
+again that he had acted like a cad; nevertheless the memory of that
+moment filled him with triumphant rapture. Had he lost all sense of
+shame, he wondered. He tried to consider Anita's situation, his own
+situation; but he could not. Anita herself absorbed him. He could think
+neither of the past nor of the future; he could think of nothing
+connectedly.
+
+The daylight waned and still he tramped steadily onward. Finally,
+however, his body began to assert itself. His footsteps grew gradually
+slower, till at last he realised that he was miles from home and that he
+was completely exhausted. Hailing a passing conveyance, he drove to his
+lodgings.
+
+He was still so engrossed in his dreams that he felt no surprise at
+finding Peter sitting in the front hall, nor did he notice the dejected
+droop of the latter's shoulders.
+
+On catching sight of his master, Peter sprang forward.
+
+"Hsh! My lord," he whispered with his finger on his lip; and turning
+slightly, he cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder towards the
+top of the stairs.
+
+With an effort Cyril shook off his preoccupation. Following the
+direction of his servant's eyes, he saw nothing more alarming than a few
+dusty plants which were supposed to adorn the small landing where the
+stairs turned. Before he had time to form a conjecture as to the cause
+of Peter's agitation, the latter continued breathlessly: "Her Ladyship
+'ave arrived, my lord!"
+
+Having made this announcement, he stepped back as if to watch what
+effect this information would have on his master. There was no doubt
+that Peter's alarm was very genuine, yet one felt that in spite of it he
+was enjoying the dramatic possibilities of the situation.
+
+Cyril, however, only blinked at him uncomprehendingly.
+
+"Her Ladyship? What Ladyship?" he asked.
+
+"Lady Wilmersley, my lord, and she brought her baggage. I haven't known
+what to do, that I haven't. I knew she ought not to stay here, but I
+couldn't turn 'er out, could I?"
+
+Cyril's mind was so full of Anita that he never doubted that it was she
+to whom Peter was referring, so without waiting to ask further
+questions, he rushed upstairs two steps at a time, and threw open the
+door of his sitting-room.
+
+On a low chair in front of the fire his wife sat reading quietly.
+
+Cyril staggered back as if he had been struck. She, however, only turned
+her head languidly and closing her book, surveyed him with a mocking
+smile.
+
+For a moment Cyril saw red. His disappointment added fuel to his
+indignation.
+
+"Amy! How dare you come here?" he cried, striding towards her.
+
+She seemed in nowise affected by his anger; only her expression became,
+if possible, a trifle more contemptuous.
+
+"Your manners have sadly deteriorated since we parted," she remarked,
+raising her eyebrows superciliously.
+
+"Manners!" he exclaimed and his voice actually shook with rage. "May I
+ask how you expected to be received? Is it possible that you imagine
+that I am going to take you back?"
+
+Her eyes narrowed, but she still appeared quite unconcerned.
+
+"Do you know, I rather think you will," she drawled.
+
+"Take you back, now that you have tired of your lover or he has become
+disgusted with you, which is probably nearer the truth. Do you think I
+am mad, or are you?"
+
+He fancied that he saw her wince, but she replied calmly:
+
+"Do not let us indulge in mutual recriminations. They are so futile."
+
+"Mutual recriminations, indeed! I like that! What have you to reproach
+me with? Didn't I marry you to save you from disgrace and penury?
+Haven't I done everything I could to keep you straight?"
+
+She rose slowly from her seat and he noticed for the first time that she
+wore a low-cut gown of some diaphanous material, which revealed and yet
+softened the too delicate lines of her sinuous figure. Her black hair
+lay in thick waves around her face, completely covering the ears, and
+wound in a coil at the back of her neck. He had never seen it arranged
+in this fashion and reluctantly he had to admit that it was strangely
+becoming to her. A wide band of dull gold, set with uncut gems,
+encircled her head and added a barbaric note to her exotic beauty. It
+was his last gift to her, he remembered.
+
+Yes, she was still beautiful, he acknowledged, although the life she had
+led, had left its marks upon her. She looked older and frailer than when
+he had seen her last. But to-night the sunken eyes glowed with
+extraordinary brilliancy and a soft colour gave a certain roundness to
+her hollow cheeks. As she stood before him, Cyril was conscious, for the
+first time in years, of the alluring charm of her personality.
+
+She regarded him for a moment, her full red lips parted in an
+inscrutable smile. How well he recalled that smile! He could never
+fathom its meaning. In some mysterious way it suggested infinite
+possibilities. How he hated it!
+
+"You tried everything, I grant you," she said at last, "except the one
+thing which would have proved efficacious."
+
+"And what was that, pray?"
+
+"You never loved me."
+
+Her unexpected accusation made Cyril pause. Yes, it was true, he
+acknowledged to himself. Had he not realised it during the last few days
+as he had never done before?
+
+"You don't even take the trouble to deny it," she continued. "You
+married me out of pity and instead of being ashamed of it, you actually
+pride yourself on the purity of your motive."
+
+"Well, at any rate I can't see what there was to be ashamed of," he
+replied indignantly.
+
+"Of course you can't! Oh, how you good people exasperate me! You seem to
+lack all comprehension of the natural cravings of a normal human being.
+Pity? What did I want with pity? I wanted love!"
+
+"It was not my fault that I could not love you."
+
+"No, but knowing that you did not love me, it was dastardly of you to
+have married me without telling me the truth. In doing so, you took from
+me my objective in life--you destroyed my ideals. Oh, don't look so
+sceptical, you fool! Can't you see that I should never have remained a
+governess until I was twenty-five, if I had not had ideals? It was
+because I had such lofty conceptions of love that I kept myself
+scrupulously aloof from men, so that I might come to my mate, when I
+found him, with soul, mind, and body unsullied."
+
+She spoke with such passionate sincerity that it was with an effort
+Cyril reminded himself that her past had not been as blameless as she
+pictured it.
+
+"Your fine ideals did not prevent you from becoming a drunkard--" he
+remarked drily.
+
+"When I married, I was not a drunkard," she vehemently protested. "The
+existence I led was abhorrent to me, and it is true that occasionally
+when I felt I could not stand it another moment, I would go to my room
+after dinner and get what comfort I could out of alcohol; but what I
+did, I did deliberately and not to satisfy an ungovernable appetite. I
+was no more a drunkard than a woman who takes a dose of morphine during
+bodily agony is a drug fiend. Of course, my conduct seems inexcusable to
+you, for you are quite incapable of understanding the torture my life
+was to me."
+
+"Other women have suffered far greater misfortunes and have borne them
+with fortitude and dignity."
+
+"Look at me, Cyril; even now am I like other women?" She drew herself up
+proudly. "Was it my fault that I was born with beauty that demanded its
+due? Was I to blame that my blood leaped wildly through my veins, that
+my imagination was always on fire? But I was, and still am,
+instinctively and fundamentally a virtuous woman. Oh, you may sneer, but
+it is true! Although as a girl I was starving for love, I never accepted
+passion as a substitute, and you can't realise how incessantly the
+latter was offered me. Wherever I went, I was persecuted by it. At times
+I had a horrible fear that desire was all that I was capable of evoking;
+and when you came to me in my misery, poverty, and disgrace, I hailed
+you as my king--my man! I believed that you were offering me a love so
+great that it welcomed the sacrifice of every minor consideration. It
+never occurred to me that you would dare to ask me for myself, my life,
+my future, unless you were able to give me in exchange something more
+than the mere luxuries of existence."
+
+"I also offered you my life----"
+
+"You did not!" she interrupted him. "You offered up your life, not to
+me, but to your own miserable conception of chivalry. The greatness of
+your sacrifice intoxicated you and consequently it seemed to you
+inevitable that I also would spend the rest of my days in humble
+contemplation of your sublime character?"
+
+"Such an idea never occurred to me," Cyril angrily objected.
+
+"Oh, you never formulated it in so many words, I know that! You are too
+self-conscious to be introspective and are actually proud of the fact
+that you never stop to analyse either yourself or your motives. So you
+go blundering through life without in the least realising what are the
+influences which shape your actions. You fancy that you are not
+self-centred because you are too shy, yes, and too vain to probe the
+hidden recesses of your heart. You imagine that you are unselfish
+because you make daily sacrifices to your own ideal of conduct. But of
+that utter forgetfulness of self, of that complete merging and
+submerging of your identity in another's, you have never had even the
+vaguest conception. When you married me, it never occurred to you that I
+had the right to demand both love and comprehension. You, the idealist,
+expected me to be satisfied with the material advantages you offered;
+but I, the degraded creature you take me to be, had I known the truth,
+would never have consented to sell my birthright for a mess of pottage."
+
+"That sounds all very fine, and I confess I may not have been a perfect
+husband, but after all, what would you have done, I should like to know,
+if I had not married you?"
+
+"Done? I would have worked and hoped, and if work had failed me, I would
+have begged and hoped. I would even have starved, before abandoning the
+hope that some day I should find the man who was destined for me. When I
+at last realised that you did not love me, you cannot imagine my
+despair. I consumed myself in futile efforts to please you, but the very
+intensity of my love prevented me from exercising those arts and
+artifices which might have brought you to my feet. My emotion in your
+presence was so great that it sealed my lips and made you find me a dull
+companion."
+
+"I never thought you dull. You know very well that it was not that which
+alienated me from you. When I married you, I may not have been what is
+called in love with you, but I was certainly fond of you, and if you had
+behaved yourself, I should no doubt in time have become more closely
+united to you. You talk of 'consuming' yourself to please me. Nice,
+effective word, that! I must add it to my vocabulary. But you chose a
+strange means of gaining my affections when you took to disgracing
+yourself both privately and publicly."
+
+The passionate resentment which had transfigured her slowly faded from
+Amy's face, leaving it drawn and old; her voice, when she spoke, sounded
+infinitely weary.
+
+"When I knew for a certainty that a lukewarm affection was all you would
+ever feel for me, I lost hope, and in losing hope, I lost my foothold on
+life. I wanted to die--I determined to die. Time and time again, I
+pressed your pistol to my forehead, but something stronger than my will
+always prevented me from pulling the trigger; and finally I sought
+forgetfulness in drink, because I had not the courage to find it in
+death. At first I tried to hide my condition from you, but there came a
+moment when the sight of your bland self-satisfaction became unbearable,
+when your absolute unconsciousness of the havoc you had made of my life
+maddened me. I wanted you to suffer! Oh, not as I had suffered, you are
+not capable of that; but at any rate I could hurt your vanity and deal a
+death-blow to your pride! You had disgraced me when you tricked me into
+giving myself to a man who did not love me; I determined to disgrace you
+by reeling through the public streets. And I was glad, glad!" she cried
+with indescribable bitterness. "When I saw you grow pale with anger,
+when I saw you tremble with shame, I suppose you fancy that I must, at
+times, have suffered from remorse and humiliation? I swear that never
+for a moment have I regretted the course I chose. I am ashamed of
+nothing except that I lacked the courage to kill myself. Drink? I bless
+it! How I welcomed the gradual deadening of my senses, the dulling of my
+fevered brain! When I awoke from my long torpor and found myself at
+Charleroi, I cursed the doctor who had brought me back to life. Little
+by little the old agony returned. The thought of you haunted me day and
+night, while a raging thirst racked my body, and from this twofold
+torture the constant supervision of the nurses prevented me from
+obtaining even a temporary respite. It was hell!"
+
+For a moment Cyril felt a wave of pity sweep over him, but suddenly he
+stiffened.
+
+"You forget to mention that--consolation was offered you."
+
+"Consolation! Had I found that, I should not be here! I admit, however,
+that when I first noticed that M. de Brissac was attracted by me, I was
+mildly pleased. It was a solace to my wounded vanity to find that some
+one still found me desirable. But I swear that it never even occurred to
+me to give myself to him, till the doctor told me that you were coming
+to take me away with you. See you again? Subject myself anew to your
+indifference--your contempt? Never! So I took the only means of escaping
+from you which offered itself. And I am glad, glad that I flung myself
+into the mire, for by defiling love, I killed it. I am at last free from
+the obsession which has been the torment of my life. Neither you nor any
+other man will again fire my imagination or stir my senses. I am dead,
+but I am also free--free!"
+
+As she spoke the last words her expression was so exalted that Cyril was
+forced to grant her his grudging admiration. As she stood before him,
+she seemed more a spirit than a woman; she seemed the incarnation of
+life, of love, of the very fundamentals of existence. She was really an
+extraordinary woman; why did he not love her, he asked himself. But even
+as this flashed through his mind the memory of his long martyrdom
+obtruded itself. He saw her again not as she appeared then, but as the
+central figure in a succession of loathsome scenes.
+
+"Your attempt to justify yourself may impose on others, but not on me. I
+know you too well! You are rotten to the core. What you term love is
+nothing but an abnormal craving, which no healthy-minded man with his
+work in life to do could have possibly satisfied. Our code, however, is
+too different for me to discuss the matter with you. And so, if you have
+quite finished expatiating on my shortcomings, would you kindly tell me
+to what I owe the honour of your visit?"
+
+She turned abruptly from him and leaned for a minute against the
+mantelpiece; then, sinking into a chair, she took a cigarette from a box
+which lay on the table near her and proceeded to light it with apparent
+unconcern. Cyril, however, noticed that her hand trembled violently.
+After inhaling a few puffs, she threw her head back and looked at him
+tauntingly from between her narrowed lids.
+
+"Because, my dear Cyril, I read in yesterday's paper that your wife had
+been your companion on your ill-timed journey from Paris. So I thought
+it would be rather amusing to run over and find out a few particulars as
+to the young person who is masquerading under my name."
+
+She had caught Cyril completely off his guard and he felt for a moment
+incapable of parrying her attack.
+
+"I assure you," he stuttered, "it is all a mistake--" He hesitated; he
+could think of no explanation which would satisfy her.
+
+"I expected you to tell me that she was as pure as snow!" she exclaimed
+with a scornful laugh. "But how you with your puritanic ideas managed to
+get yourself into such an imbroglio passes my understanding. Really, I
+consider that you owe it to me, to satisfy my curiosity."
+
+"I regret that I am unable to do so."
+
+"So do I! Still, as I shall no doubt solve the riddle in a few days, I
+can possess my soul in patience. Meanwhile I shall enjoy watching your
+efforts to prevent me from learning the truth."
+
+"Unfortunately for you, that pleasure will be denied you. You are going
+to leave this house at once and we shall not meet again till we do so
+before judge and jury."
+
+Amy settled herself more comfortably in her chair.
+
+"So you will persist in trying to bluff it out? Foolish Cyril! Don't you
+realise that I hold all the cards and that I am quite clever enough to
+use them to the best advantage? You see, knowing you as I do, I am
+convinced that the motive which led you to sacrifice both truth and
+honour is probably as praiseworthy as it is absurd. But having made such
+a sacrifice, why are you determined to render it useless? I cannot
+believe that you are willing to face the loss not only of your own
+reputation but of that of the young person who has accepted your
+protection. How do you fancy she would enjoy figuring as corespondent in
+a divorce suit?"
+
+Cyril felt as if he were caught in a trap.
+
+"My God," he cried, "you wouldn't do that! I swear to you that she is
+absolutely innocent. She was in a terrible situation and to say that she
+was my wife seemed the only way to save her. She doesn't even know I am
+married!"
+
+"Really? And have you never considered that when she finds out the
+truth, she may fail to appreciate the delicacy which no doubt prevented
+you from mentioning the trifling fact of my existence? It is rather
+funny that your attempts to rescue forlorn damsels seem doomed to be
+unsuccessful! Or were your motives in this case not quite so impersonal
+as I fancied? Has Launcelot at last found his Guinevere? If so, I may
+yet be avenged vicariously."
+
+"Your presence is punishment enough, I assure you, for all the sins I
+ever committed! But come to the point. What exactly is it that you are
+threatening me with?"
+
+"Publicity, that is all. If neither you nor this woman object to its
+being known that you travelled together as man and wife, then I am
+powerless."
+
+"But you have just acknowledged that you know that our relation is a
+harmless one," cried Cyril.
+
+"I do not know it--but--yes, I believe it. Do you think, however, that
+any one else will do so?"
+
+"Surely you would not be such a fiend as to wreck the life of an
+innocent young girl?"
+
+"If her life is wrecked, whose fault is it? Not mine, at all events. It
+was you who by publicly proclaiming her to be your wife, made it
+impossible for her disgrace to remain a secret. Don't you realise that
+even if I took no steps in the matter, sooner or later the truth is
+bound to be discovered? Now I--and I alone--can save you from the
+consequences of your folly. If you will agree not to divorce me, I
+promise not only to keep your secret, but to protect the good name of
+this woman by every means in my power."
+
+"I should like to know what you expect to gain by trying to force me to
+take you back? Is it the title that you covet, or do you long to shine
+in society? But remember that in order to do that, you would have
+radically to reform your habits."
+
+"I have no intention of reforming and I don't care a fig for
+conventional society!"
+
+"You tell me that you no longer love me and that you found existence
+with me unsupportable. Why then are you not willing to end it?"
+
+"It is true, I no longer love you, but while I live, no other woman
+shall usurp my place."
+
+"Your place! When you broke your marriage vows, you forfeited your right
+to a place in my life. But I will make a compact with you. You can have
+all the money you can possibly want as long as you neither do nor say
+anything to imperil the reputation of the young lady in question."
+
+"All the wealth in the world could not buy my silence!"
+
+"This is too horrible!" cried Cyril almost beside himself. "In order to
+shield a poor innocent child, you demand that I sacrifice my freedom, my
+future, even my honour? Have you no sense of justice, no pity?"
+
+"None. I have said my last word. It is now for you to decide whether I
+am to go or stay. Well--which is it to be?"
+
+Cyril looked into her white, set face; what he read there destroyed his
+last, lingering hope.
+
+"Stay," he muttered through his clenched teeth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+"I KNOW IT, COUSIN CYRIL"
+
+
+Cyril leaned wearily back in his chair. He was in that state of
+apathetic calm which sometimes succeeds a violent emotion. Of his wife
+he had neither seen or heard anything since they parted the night
+before.
+
+"My lord!"
+
+Cyril started, for he had not noticed Peter's entrance and the
+suppressed excitement of the latter's manner alarmed him.
+
+"What is the matter now?" he demanded.
+
+"She's 'ere, my lord," replied Peter, dropping his voice till it was
+almost a whisper.
+
+Cyril sprang from his seat.
+
+"Who?" he cried. "Speak up, can't you?"
+
+"The--the young lady, my lord, as you took charge of on the train. I was
+just passing through the 'all as she came in and so----"
+
+"Here?" exclaimed Cyril. "Why didn't you show her up at once?"
+
+"But, my lord," objected Peter. "If 'er Ladyship should 'ear----"
+
+"Mind your own business, you fool, or----"
+
+But Peter had already scuttled out of the room.
+
+Cyril waited, every nerve strung to the highest tension. Was he again to
+be disappointed? Yet if his visitor was really Anita, some new
+misfortune must have occurred! It seemed to him ages before the door
+again opened and admitted a small, cloaked figure, whose features were
+practically concealed by a heavy veil. A glance, however, sufficed to
+assure him that it was indeed Anita who stood before him. While Cyril
+was struggling to regain his composure, she lifted her veil. The
+desperation of her eyes appalled him.
+
+"My God, what is the matter?" cried Cyril, striding forward and seizing
+her hands.
+
+She gently disengaged herself.
+
+"Lord Wilmersley--" Cyril jumped as if he had been shot. "Yes," she
+continued, "I know who you are. I also know who I am."
+
+"But who told you?" stuttered Cyril.
+
+"You did," she quietly replied.
+
+"I? What do you mean?"
+
+For the first time the ghost of a smile hovered round her lips.
+
+"You called me Anita! You didn't know that, did you?"
+
+"Did I really? What a blundering fool I have been from first to last!"
+Cyril exclaimed remorsefully.
+
+"You need not reproach yourself. For some days I had been haunted by
+fragmentary visions of the past and before I saw you yesterday, I was
+practically certain that you were not my husband. Oh! It was not without
+a struggle that I finally made up my mind that you had deceived me. I
+told myself again and again that you were not the sort of a man who
+would take advantage of an unprotected girl; yet the more I thought
+about it, the more convinced I became that my suspicions were correct.
+Then I tried to imagine what reason you could have for posing as my
+husband, but I could think of none. I was in despair! I didn't know what
+to do, whom to turn to; for if I could not trust you, whom could I
+trust? When I heard my name, it was as if a dim light suddenly flooded
+my brain. I knew who I was. I remembered leaving Geralton, but little by
+little I realised with dismay that I was still completely in the dark as
+to who you were, why you had come into my life. It seemed to me that if
+I could not discover the truth, I should go mad. Then I decided to
+appeal to Miss Trevor. She was a woman. She looked kind. She would tell
+me! I was somehow convinced that she did not know who I was, but I said
+to myself that she would certainly have heard of my disappearance, for I
+could not believe that Arthur had allowed me to go out of his life
+without moving heaven and earth to find me."
+
+"You did not know----?"
+
+Anita shook her head.
+
+"No; it was Miss Trevor who told me that Arthur was dead--that he had
+been murdered." She shuddered convulsively. "You see," she added with
+pathetic humility, "there are still so many things I do not remember.
+Even now I can hardly believe that I, I of all people, killed my
+husband." Great tears coursed slowly down her cheeks.
+
+Cyril ached for pity of her.
+
+"Why take it for granted that you did?" he suggested, partly from a
+desire to comfort her, but also because there really lingered a doubt in
+his mind.
+
+"Do you suspect any one else?" she cried.
+
+"Not at present, but----"
+
+She threw up her hands with a gesture of despair. "No, of course not. I
+must have killed him. But I never meant to--you will believe that, won't
+you? Those doctors were right, I must have been insane!"
+
+"I am sure you were not. Arthur only intended to frighten you by sending
+for those men."
+
+"But if I was not crazy, why can I remember so little of what took place
+on that dreadful night and for some time afterwards?"
+
+"I am told that a severe shock often has that effect," replied Cyril.
+"But, oh, how I wish you could answer a few questions! I don't want to
+raise your hopes; but there is one thing that has always puzzled me and
+till that is explained I for one shall always doubt whether it was you
+who killed Arthur."
+
+Again the eager light leaped into her eyes.
+
+"Oh, tell me quickly what--what makes you think that I may not have done
+so?"
+
+Cyril contemplated her a moment in silence. He longed to pursue the
+topic, but was fearful of the effect it might have on her.
+
+"Yet now that she knows the worst, it may be a relief to her to talk
+about it," he said to himself. "Yes, I will risk it," he finally
+decided.
+
+"Do you remember that you put a drug in Arthur's coffee?" he asked out
+loud.
+
+"Yes, perfectly."
+
+"Then you must have expected to make your escape before he regained
+consciousness."
+
+"Yes--yes!"
+
+"Then why did you arm yourself with a pistol?"
+
+"I didn't! I had no pistol."
+
+"But if you shot Arthur, you must have had a pistol."
+
+She stared at Cyril in evident bewilderment.
+
+"I could have sworn I had no pistol."
+
+Cyril tried to control his rising excitement. "You knew, however, that
+Arthur owned one?"
+
+"Yes, but I never knew where he kept it."
+
+"You are sure you have not forgotten----"
+
+"No, no!" she interrupted him. "My memory is perfectly clear up to the
+time when Arthur seized me and threw me on the floor."
+
+"After that you remember nothing?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I have a vague recollection of a long walk through the
+dark--of a train--of you--of policemen. But everything is so confused
+that I can be sure of nothing."
+
+Cyril paced the room deep in thought.
+
+"It seems to me incredible," he said at last, "that if you did not even
+know where to look for a pistol, you should have found it, to say
+nothing of having been able to use it, while you were being beaten into
+unconsciousness by that brute."
+
+But Anita only shook her head hopelessly.
+
+"It is extraordinary, and yet I must have done so. For it has been
+proved, has it not, that Arthur and I were absolutely alone?"
+
+"Certainly not! How can we be sure that some one was not concealed in
+the room or did not climb in through the window or--why, there are a
+thousand possibilities which can never be proved!"
+
+"Ah!" she exclaimed, her whole body trembling with eagerness. "I now
+remember that I had put all my jewels in a bag, and as that has
+disappeared, a burglar--" But as she scanned Cyril's face, she paused.
+
+"You had the bag with you at the nursing home. The jewels are safe," he
+said very gently.
+
+"Then," she cried, "it is useless trying to deceive ourselves any
+longer--I killed Arthur and must face the consequences."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I have decided to give myself up."
+
+"You shall not! I will not allow it!" he cried.
+
+"But don't you see that I can't spend the rest of my life in hiding?
+Think what it would mean to live in daily, hourly dread of exposure?
+Why, death would be preferable to that."
+
+"Oh, you would be acquitted. There is no doubt of that. That is not what
+I am afraid of. But the idea of you, Anita, in prison. Why, it is out of
+the question. A week of it would kill you."
+
+"And if it did, what of it? What has life to offer me now?"
+
+"Give me time. I will find some way of saving you. I will do
+anything--everything."
+
+"There is nothing you can do," she said, laying her hand gently on his
+arm. "You have already risked too much. Oh, I can never thank you enough
+for all your goodness to me!"
+
+"Don't--don't--I would gladly give my life for you!"
+
+"I know it, Cousin Cyril," she murmured, with downcast eyes. A wave of
+colour swept for a moment over her face.
+
+Cyril shivered. With a mighty effort he strove to regain his composure.
+Cousin Cyril! Yes, that was what he was to her--that was all he could
+ever be to her.
+
+"I know how noble, how unselfish you are," she continued, lifting her
+brimming eyes to his. "But your life is not your own. We must both
+remember that."
+
+"Both? Anita, is it possible that you----"
+
+"Hush! I have said too much. Let me go," she cried, for Cyril had seized
+her hand and was covering it with kisses.
+
+At this moment the door-handle rattled. Cyril and Anita moved hurriedly
+away from each other.
+
+"Inspector Griggs is 'ere, my lord."
+
+Peter's face had resumed its usual stolid expression. He appeared not to
+notice that his master and the latter's guest were standing in strained
+attitudes at opposite ends of the room.
+
+"I can't see him." Cyril motioned Peter impatiently away.
+
+"Why didn't you see the inspector?" exclaimed Anita. "This is the best
+time for me to give myself up."
+
+"No, no! I have a plan----"
+
+He was interrupted by the reappearance of Peter.
+
+"The inspector is very sorry, my lord, but he has to see you at once, 'e
+says."
+
+"I can't," began Cyril.
+
+"It is no use putting it off," Anita said firmly. "I insist on your
+seeing him. If you don't, I shall go down and speak to him myself."
+
+Cyril did not know what to do. He could not argue with her before Peter.
+So turning to the latter, he said:
+
+"You can bring him up in ten minutes--not before. You understand?"
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Anita," implored Cyril, as soon as they were again alone, "I beg you
+not to do this thing. If a plan that I have in mind succeeds, you will
+be able to leave the country and begin life again under another name."
+
+She hesitated a moment.
+
+"What is this plan?"
+
+He outlined it briefly.
+
+She listened attentively, but when he had finished she shook her head.
+
+"I will not allow you to attempt it. If your fraud were discovered--and
+it would surely be discovered--your life would be ruined."
+
+"No--" he began.
+
+"I tell you I will not hear of it. No, I am determined to end this
+horrible suspense. Call the inspector."
+
+"I entreat you at all events to wait a little while longer."
+
+"No, no!"
+
+Cyril was almost frantic. The minutes were slipping past. Was there
+nothing he could say to turn her from her purpose?
+
+"My wife is here. If she should hear, if she should know--" he began
+tentatively.
+
+He was amazed at the effect of his words.
+
+"Why didn't you tell me that she was here?" exclaimed Anita with
+flashing eyes. "Of course, I haven't the slightest intention of
+involving her in my affairs. I will go at once."
+
+"But you can't leave the house without Griggs seeing you, and he would
+certainly guess who you are. Stay in the next room till he is gone, that
+is all I ask of you. Here, quick, I hear footsteps on the stairs."
+
+Cyril had hardly time to fling himself into a chair before the inspector
+was announced.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE TRUTH
+
+
+"Good-morning, my lord. Rather early to disturb you, I am afraid."
+
+Cyril noticed that Griggs's manner had undergone a subtle change.
+Although perfectly respectful, he seemed to hold himself rigidly aloof.
+There was even a certain solemnity about his trivial greeting. Cyril
+felt that another blow was impending. Instantly and instinctively he
+braced himself to meet it.
+
+"Not at all. What can I do for you?" he replied in his usual quiet
+voice.
+
+The man hesitated a moment.
+
+"The fact is, my lord, I should like to ask you a few questions, but I
+warn you that your answers may be used against you."
+
+"I have nothing to fear. What is it you want to know?"
+
+"Have you missed a bag, my lord?"
+
+"That confounded bag! It has turned up at last," thought Cyril. What on
+earth should he say? How much did the fellow guess?
+
+"You had better ask my man. He knows more about my things than I do," he
+managed to answer, as he lifted a perfectly expressionless face to
+Griggs's inspection.
+
+"Quite so, my lord. But I fancy that as far as this particular bag is
+concerned, that is not the case."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I do not see what reason he could have had for hiding one of
+his master's bags up the chimney."
+
+"So the bag was found up the chimney? Will you tell me what motive I am
+supposed to have had for wishing to conceal it? Is there anything
+remarkable about it? Did it contain anything you thought I might want to
+get rid of?"
+
+The inspector eyed him narrowly.
+
+"It's no use, my lord. We know that Priscilla Prentice bought this bag a
+fortnight ago in Newhaven. Now, if you are able to explain how it came
+into your possession, I would strongly advise your doing so."
+
+Still Cyril did not flinch.
+
+"I have never to my knowledge laid eyes on the girl, and I cannot,
+therefore, believe that a bag of hers has been found here."
+
+"We can prove it," replied the inspector. "The maker's name is inside
+and the man who sold it to her is willing to swear that it is the
+identical bag. One of our men has made friends with your chamber-maid
+and she confessed that she had discovered it stuffed up the chimney in
+your bedroom. She is a stupid girl and thought you had thrown it away,
+so she took it. Only afterwards, it occurred to her that you had a
+purpose in placing the bag where she had found it and she was going to
+return it when my man prevented her from doing so."
+
+"Very remarkable! It all fits together like clock-work. I congratulate
+you, Inspector," said Cyril, trying to speak superciliously. "But you
+omitted to mention the most important link in the chain of evidence you
+have so cleverly forged against me," he continued. "How am I supposed to
+have got hold of this bag? I did not stop in Newhaven and you have had
+me so closely watched that you must know that since my arrival in
+England I have met no one who could have given it to me."
+
+"No, my lord, we are by no means sure of this. Quite the contrary. It is
+true that we have, so to speak, kept an eye on you, but, till yesterday,
+we had no reason to suspect that you had any connection with the murder,
+so we did not think it necessary to have you closely followed. There
+have been hours when we have had no idea where you were."
+
+"You surprise me!"
+
+"It is quite possible," continued the inspector without heeding Cyril's
+interruption, "that you have met either Prentice or Lady Wilmersley, the
+dowager, I mean."
+
+"Really! And why should they have given this bag to me, of all people?
+Surely you must see that they could have found many easier, as well as
+safer, ways of disposing of it."
+
+"Quite so, my lord, and that is why I am inclined to believe that it was
+not through either of them that the bag came into your possession. I
+think it more probable that her Ladyship brought it with her."
+
+"Her Ladyship? What do you mean?" Cyril's voice grew suddenly harsh.
+
+"You told me yourself that her Ladyship met you in Newhaven; that, in
+fact, she had spent the night of the murder there."
+
+Cyril clutched the table convulsively.
+
+Amy! They suspected Amy. This was too horrible! Why had it never
+occurred to him that his lies might involve an innocent person?
+
+"But this is absurd, you know," he stammered, in a futile effort to gain
+time.
+
+"Let us hope so, my lord."
+
+"There has been a terrible mistake, I tell you."
+
+"In that case her Ladyship can no doubt easily explain it."
+
+"Her Ladyship is ill. She cannot be disturbed."
+
+"I am afraid that cannot be avoided. I must see her at once. But if you
+wish it, I will not question her till she has been examined by our
+doctors."
+
+Cyril rose and moved automatically towards the door.
+
+The inspector stepped forward.
+
+"Sorry, my lord, but for the present you can see her Ladyship only
+before witnesses. May I ring the bell?"
+
+"What is the use of asking my permission? You are master here, so it
+seems," exclaimed Cyril. His nerves were at last getting beyond his
+control.
+
+"I am only doing my duty and I assure you that I want to cause as little
+unpleasantness as possible."
+
+A servant appeared.
+
+The inspector remained discreetly in the background.
+
+"Ask her Ladyship please to come here as soon as she can get ready. If
+she is asleep, it will be necessary to wake her."
+
+"Very good, my lord."
+
+The two men sat facing each other in silence.
+
+Cyril was hardly conscious of the other's presence. He must think; he
+knew he must think; but his brain seemed paralysed. There must be a way
+of clearing his wife without casting suspicion on Anita. Yet he could
+think of none. Was it possible that he was now called upon to choose
+between the woman he hated and the woman he loved, between honour and
+dishonour? No, there must be a middle course. Time would surely solve
+the difficulty.
+
+The door opened and Amy came slowly into the room. She looked
+desperately ill.
+
+She was wrapped in a red velvet dressing-gown and its warm colour
+contrasted painfully with the greyness of her face and lips. On catching
+sight of the inspector, she started, but controlling herself with an
+obvious effort, she turned to her husband.
+
+"You wish to speak to me?"
+
+"You can see for yourself, Inspector, that her Ladyship is in no
+condition to be questioned," remonstrated Cyril, moving quickly to his
+wife's side.
+
+"Just as you say, my lord, but in that case her Ladyship had better
+finish her dressing. It will be necessary for her to accompany me to
+headquarters."
+
+"I will not allow it," cried Cyril, almost beside himself and throwing a
+protecting arm around Amy's shoulders.
+
+Her bloodshot eyes rested a moment on her husband, then gently
+disengaging herself, she drew herself to her full height and faced the
+inspector.
+
+"What is the matter? You need not try to spare me."
+
+"His Lordship----"
+
+"Do not listen to his Lordship. It is I who demand to be told the
+truth."
+
+"Amy, I beg you--" interposed Cyril.
+
+"No, no," she cried, shaking off her husband's hand. "Let me know the
+worst. Don't you see that you are torturing me?"
+
+"There has been a mistake. It is all my fault," began Cyril.
+
+She silenced him with an imperious gesture.
+
+"I am waiting to hear what the inspector has to say."
+
+Griggs cast a questioning look at Cyril, which the latter answered by a
+helpless shrug.
+
+"A bag has been found in his Lordship's chimney, which was lately
+purchased in Newhaven. Do you know how it got there? But perhaps before
+answering, you may wish to consult your legal adviser."
+
+She cast a quick glance at her husband.
+
+"I will neither acknowledge nor deny anything until I have seen this bag
+and know of what I am accused," she answered after a barely perceptible
+pause.
+
+Griggs opened the door and called:
+
+"Jones, the bag, please."
+
+The inspector handed it to Amy.
+
+She looked at it for a moment. Cyril watched her breathlessly. What
+would she say? Had the moment come when he must proclaim the truth?
+
+"Am I supposed to have bought this bag?" she asked.
+
+"No, my lady. It was sold to Prentice, who was sempstress at Geralton
+and we believe it is the one in which Lady Wilmersley carried off her
+jewels."
+
+Amy gave a muffled exclamation, but almost instantly she regained her
+composure.
+
+"If that is so, how do you connect me with it? Because it happens to
+have been found here, do you accuse me of having robbed my cousin?"
+
+"No, my lady, but as you spent the night of the murder in Newhaven----"
+
+To Cyril's surprise she shuddered from head to foot.
+
+"No, no!" she cried, stretching out her hands as if to ward off a blow.
+
+"It is useless to deny it. His Lordship himself told me that you had
+joined him there."
+
+"I lied! It was not her Ladyship who was with me. Her Ladyship was in
+Paris at the time. I swear it on my honour. The bag is--is mine. You can
+arrest me. I am guilty." Thank God, thought Cyril, he had at last found
+a way of saving both his love and his honour.
+
+"Guilty of what, my lord? Of a murder which was committed while you were
+still in France--" asked Griggs, lifting his eyebrows incredulously.
+
+"Yes! I mean I instigated it--I hated my cousin--I needed the money, so
+I hired an accomplice. He bungled things. I give myself up. I confess.
+What more do you want?" cried Cyril.
+
+"Not so fast, my lord. Of course, if you insist upon it, I shall have to
+arrest you, but I don't believe you had anything more to do with the
+murder than I had, and I would stake my reputation on your being as
+straight a gentleman as I ever met professionally. Wait a bit, my lord,
+don't be 'asty." In his excitement Griggs dropped one of his carefully
+guarded aitches.
+
+The door opened.
+
+"Mr. Campbell, my lord."
+
+"Guy," exclaimed Cyril. "You have arrived in the nick of time. I have
+confessed."
+
+"Confessed what?" Campbell cast a bewildered look at the inspector.
+
+"His Lordship says that he hired an assassin to murder Lord Wilmersley."
+
+"What rot! You don't believe him, I hope?"
+
+"He _shall_ believe me," cried Cyril. "I alone am responsible for
+Wilmersley's death. The person who actually fired the shot was nothing
+but my tool. I will never betray him, never!"
+
+"Honour among murderers, I see! Really, Cyril, you are too ridiculous,"
+exclaimed Campbell.
+
+Suddenly he caught sight of Amy, cowering in the shadow of the curtain.
+
+"Who is this lady?" he asked.
+
+"My wife! Look after her. Look after everything." Cyril gave Guy a look
+in which he tried to convey all that he did not dare to say.
+
+The door again opened.
+
+"Mr. Judson is 'ere, my lord. I told him you were engaged, but he says
+he would like to speak to you most particular."
+
+"I don't want to see him," began Cyril.
+
+"Don't be a greater fool than you can help," exclaimed Campbell. "How do
+you know that he has not some important news?"
+
+"But--" objected Cyril.
+
+"Good morning, your Lordship. How do you do, Inspector. Mr. Campbell, I
+believe. Your servant, your Ladyship. I took the liberty of forcing
+myself upon you at this moment, my lord, because I have just learnt
+certain facts which----"
+
+"It is too late to report," interposed Cyril hastily. "I have
+confessed."
+
+The detective smiled indulgently.
+
+"Why, my lord, what is the use of pretending that you had anything to do
+with the murder? I hurried here to tell you that there is no further
+need of your sacrificing yourself. I have found out who----"
+
+"Shut up, I say. I did it. It's none of your business anyhow!" cried
+Cyril incoherently.
+
+"Don't listen to his Lordship," said Amy. "We all know, of course, that
+he is perfectly innocent. He is trying to shield some one. But who?" She
+cast a keen look at Cyril.
+
+"That's just it," Judson agreed. "And it is partly my fault. I convinced
+his Lordship that Lord Wilmersley was murdered by his wife. I have come
+here to tell him that I was mistaken. It is lucky that I discovered the
+truth in time."
+
+"Thank God!" cried Cyril. "I always knew she was innocent." His relief
+was so intense that it robbed him of all power of concealment.
+
+Amy's mouth hardened into a straight, inflexible line; her eyes
+narrowed.
+
+"I suppose that you have some fact to support your extraordinary
+assertion?" demanded Griggs, unable to hide his vexation at finding that
+his rival had evidently outwitted him.
+
+"Certainly, but I will say no more till I have his Lordship's
+permission. He is my employer, you know."
+
+"What difference does that make?" asked Cyril. "I am more anxious than
+any one to discover the truth."
+
+"Permit me to suggest, my lord, that it would be better if I could first
+speak to you in private."
+
+"Nonsense," exclaimed Cyril impatiently. "I am tired of this eternal
+secrecy. Tell us what you have found out."
+
+The detective's brows contracted slightly.
+
+"Very well, only remember, I warned you."
+
+"That's all right."
+
+"Have you forgotten, my lord, that I told you I always had an idea that
+those two Frenchmen who were staying at the Red Lion Inn, were somehow
+implicated in the affair?"
+
+"But what possible motive could they have had for murdering my cousin?"
+demanded Cyril.
+
+The detective's eyes appeared to wander aimlessly from one of his
+auditors to another.
+
+"We are waiting. What about those Frenchmen?"
+
+It was Amy who spoke. She moved slowly forward, and leaning her arm on
+the mantelpiece confronted the four men.
+
+"You wish me to continue?" asked Judson.
+
+"Certainly. Why not?"
+
+The detective inclined his head and again turned towards Cyril.
+
+"Having once discovered their identity, my lord, their motive was quite
+apparent."
+
+"Well, who are they? Out with it."
+
+"The elder," began Judson, speaking very slowly, "is Monsieur de
+Brissac. The younger--" he paused.
+
+For a moment Cyril was too stunned to speak. He could do nothing but
+stare stupidly at the detective. Amy guilty! Amy! It was incredible!
+
+"Stop! Your suspicions are absurd! Do not listen to him, Inspector!" He
+hardly knew what he was saying. He only realised confusedly that
+something within him was crying to him to save her.
+
+A wonderful light suddenly transfigured Amy's drawn face.
+
+"Cyril, would you really do this for----"
+
+"Hush!" He tried to silence her.
+
+She turned proudly to the inspector.
+
+"I don't care now who knows the truth. I killed Lord Wilmersley."
+
+"Don't listen to her! Don't you see that she is not accountable for what
+she is saying?" cried Cyril. He had forgotten everything but that she
+was a woman--his wife.
+
+"I killed Lord Wilmersley," Amy repeated, as if he had not spoken, "but
+I did not murder him."
+
+"Does your Ladyship expect us to believe that you happened to call at
+the castle at half-past ten in the evening, and that during an amicable
+conversation you accidentally shot Lord Wilmersley?" demanded Griggs.
+
+"No," replied Amy contemptuously, "of course not! I--" She hesitated.
+
+"If your Ladyship had not ulterior purpose in going to Newhaven, why did
+you disguise yourself as a boy and live there under an assumed name? And
+who is this Frenchman who posed as your brother?"
+
+Amy threw her head back defiantly. A faint colour swept over her face.
+
+"Monsieur de Brissac was my lover. When we discovered that his Lordship
+was employing detectives, we went to Newhaven, because we thought that
+it was the last place where they would be likely to look for us. I
+disguised myself to throw them off the scent."
+
+"But the description the inspector gave me of the boy did not resemble
+you in the least," insisted Cyril.
+
+"It was I nevertheless. I merely cut off my hair and dyed it. See!" She
+snatched the black wig from her head, disclosing a short crop of reddish
+curls.
+
+"You have yet to explain," resumed the inspector sternly, "what took you
+to Geralton in the middle of the night. Under the circumstances I should
+have thought your Ladyship would hardly have cared to visit his
+Lordship's relations."
+
+Ignoring Griggs, Amy turned to her husband.
+
+"My going there was the purest accident," she began in a dull,
+monotonous voice, almost as if she were reciting a lesson, but as she
+proceeded, her excitement increased till finally she became so absorbed
+in her story that she appeared to forget her hearers completely. "I was
+horribly restless, so we spent most of our time motoring and often
+stayed out very late. One night a tire burst. I noticed that we had
+stopped within a short walk of the castle. As I had never seen it except
+at a distance, it occurred to me that I would like to have a nearer view
+of the place. In my boy's clothes I found it fairly easy to climb the
+low wall which separates the gardens from the park. Not a light was to
+be seen, so, as there seemed no danger of my being discovered, I
+ventured on to the terrace. As I stood there, I heard a faint cry. My
+first impulse was to retrace my footsteps as quickly as possible, but
+when I realised that it was a woman who was crying for help, I felt that
+I must find out what was the matter. Running in the direction from which
+the sound came, I turned a corner and found myself confronted by a
+lighted window. The shrieks were now positively blood-curdling and there
+was no doubt in my mind that some poor creature was being done to death
+only a few feet away from me. The window was high above my head, but I
+was determined to reach it. After several unsuccessful attempts I
+managed to gain a foothold on the uneven surface of the wall and hoist
+myself on to the window-sill. Luckily the window was partially open, so
+I was able to slip noiselessly into the room and hide behind the
+curtain. Peering through the folds, I saw a woman lying on the floor.
+Her bodice was torn open, exposing her bare back. Over her stood a man
+who was beating her with a piece of cord which was attached to the waist
+of a sort of Eastern dressing-gown he wore.
+
+"'So you thought you would leave me, did you?' he cried over and over
+again as the lash fell faster and faster. 'Well, you won't! Not till I
+send you to hell, which I will some day.'
+
+"At last he paused and wiped the perspiration from his brow. He was very
+fat and his exertions were evidently telling on him.
+
+"'Why shouldn't I kill you now? I have my pistol within reach of my
+hand. It is here on my desk. Ah, you didn't know that, did you?' He gave
+a fiendish laugh.
+
+"The woman shuddered but made no attempt to rise.
+
+"I was slowly recovering from the terror which had at first paralysed
+me. I realised I must act at once if I meant to save Lady Wilmersley's
+life. The desk was behind him.
+
+"Dropping on my hands and knees, I crept cautiously toward it. 'Kill
+you, kill you, that is what I ought to do,' he kept repeating.
+
+"I reached the desk. No pistol was to be seen; yet I knew it was there.
+As I fumbled among his papers, my hand touched an ancient steel
+gauntlet. Some instinct told me that I had found what I sought. But how
+to open it was the question. Some agonising moments passed before I at
+last accidentally pressed the spring and a pistol lay in my hand.
+
+"He again raised the cord.
+
+"'Stop!' I cried.
+
+"He swung around and as he caught sight of the pistol levelled at his
+head, the purple slowly faded from his face.
+
+"Then seemingly reassured at finding that it was only a boy who
+confronted him, he took a step forward.
+
+"'Who the devil are you? Get out of here!' he cried.
+
+"'Stay where you are or I fire.'
+
+"'What nonsense is this?' he blustered, but I noticed that his knees
+shook and he made no further effort to move.
+
+"'Climb out of the window. There is a car waiting in the road,' I called
+to the girl.
+
+"'She shall not go!' he shrieked. The veins stood out on his temples.
+
+"I held him with my eye and saw his coward soul quiver with fear as I
+moved deliberately nearer him.
+
+"'Do as I tell you. Run for your life,' I repeated.
+
+"'But you?' gasped Lady Wilmersley.
+
+"'I have the pistol. I am not afraid. I will follow you,' I assured her.
+
+"I knew rather than saw that she picked up a jacket and bag which lay
+near the window. With a soft thud she dropped into the night. That is
+the last I saw of her. What became of her I do not know." Amy paused a
+moment.
+
+"As Lord Wilmersley saw his wife disappear, he gave a cry like a wounded
+animal and rushed after her. I fired. He staggered back a few steps,
+then turning he ran into the adjoining room. I heard a splash but did
+not stop to find out what happened. Almost beside myself with terror, I
+fled from the castle. If you have any more questions to ask, you had
+better hurry."
+
+She stopped abruptly, trembling from head to foot, and glanced wildly
+about her till her eyes rested on her husband. For a long, long moment
+she regarded him in silence. She seemed to be gathering herself together
+for a supreme effort.
+
+All four men watched her in breathless suspense.
+
+With her eyes still fastened on Cyril she fumbled in the bosom of her
+dress, then her hand shot out, and before any one could prevent her, she
+jabbed a hypodermic needle deep into her arm.
+
+"What have you done?" cried Cyril, springing forward and wrenching the
+needle from her.
+
+A beatific smile spread slowly over her face.
+
+"You are--free," she gasped.
+
+She swayed a little and would have fallen if Cyril had not caught her.
+
+"Quick--a doctor," he cried.
+
+"It is too late," she murmured. "Too late! Forgive me, Cyril.
+I--loved--you--so----"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+CAMPBELL RESIGNS
+
+
+Under a yew tree, overlooking a wide lawn, bordered on the farther side
+by a bank of flowers, three people are sitting clustered around a
+tea-table.
+
+One of them is a little old lady, the dearest old lady imaginable. By
+her side, in a low basket chair, a girl is half sitting, half reclining.
+Her small figure, clad in a simple black frock, gives the impression of
+extreme youth, which impression is heightened by the fact that her
+curly, yellow hair, reaching barely to the nape of her neck, is caught
+together by a black ribbon like a schoolgirl's. But when one looks more
+closely into her pale face, one realises somehow that she is a woman and
+a woman who has suffered--who still suffers.
+
+On the ground facing the younger woman a red-headed young man in white
+flannels is squatting tailor-fashion. He is holding out an empty cup to
+be refilled.
+
+"Not another!" exclaims the little old lady in a horrified tone. "Why,
+you have had three already!"
+
+"My dear Trevie, let me inform you once and for all that I have
+abandoned my figure. Why should I persist in the struggle now that Anita
+refuses to smile on me? When one's heart is broken, one had better make
+the most of the few pleasures one can still enjoy. So another cup,
+please."
+
+Anita took no notice of his sally; her eyes were fixed on the distant
+horizon; she seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.
+
+"By the way," remarked Campbell casually as he sipped his tea, "I spent
+last Sunday at Geralton." He watched Anita furtively. A faint flutter of
+the eyelids was the only indication she gave of having heard him, yet
+Guy was convinced that she was waiting breathlessly for him to continue.
+
+"How is Lord Wilmersley?" asked Miss Trevor with kindly indifference.
+
+"Very well indeed. He is doing a lot to the castle. You would hardly
+know it--the interior, I mean." Although he had pointedly addressed
+Anita, she made no comment. It was only after a long silence that she
+finally spoke.
+
+"And how is Valdriguez?" she inquired.
+
+"Much the same. She plays all day long with the dolls Cyril bought for
+her. She seems quite happy."
+
+Again they relapsed into silence.
+
+Miss Trevor took up her knitting, which had been lying in her lap, and
+was soon busy avoiding the pitfalls a heel presents to the unwary.
+
+"I think I will go for a walk," said Anita, rising slowly from her seat.
+There was a hint of exasperation in her voice which escaped neither of
+her hearers.
+
+Miss Trevor peered anxiously over her spectacles at the retreating
+figure.
+
+Campbell's rubicund countenance had grown strangely grave.
+
+"No better?" he asked as soon as Anita was out of earshot.
+
+Miss Trevor shook her head disconsolately.
+
+"Worse, I think. I can't imagine what can be the matter with her. She
+seemed at one time to have recovered from her terrible experience. But
+now, as you can see for yourself, she is absolutely wretched. She takes
+no interest in anything. She hardly eats enough to keep a bird alive. If
+she goes on like this much longer, she will fret herself into her grave.
+Yet whenever I question her, she assures me that she is all right. I
+really don't know what I ought to do."
+
+"Has it never occurred to you that she may be wondering why Wilmersley
+has never written to her, nor been to see her?"
+
+"Lord Wilmersley? Why--no. She hardly ever mentions him."
+
+"She never mentions him," corrected Guy. "She inquires after everybody
+at Geralton except Cyril. Doesn't that strike you as very suspicious?"
+
+"Oh, you don't mean that----"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"But she hardly knows him! You told me yourself that she had only seen
+him three or four times."
+
+"True, but you must remember that they met under very romantic
+conditions. And Cyril is the sort of chap who would be likely to appeal
+to a girl's imagination."
+
+"Lady Wilmersley in love! I can't believe it!" exclaimed Miss Trevor.
+
+"I wish I didn't," muttered Guy under his breath.
+
+She heard him, however, and laid her small, wrinkled hand tenderly on
+his shoulder.
+
+"My poor boy, I guessed your trouble long ago."
+
+"Don't pity me! It doesn't hurt any longer--not much at least. When one
+realises a thing is quite hopeless, one somehow ends by adjusting
+oneself to the inevitable. What I feel for her now is more worship than
+love. I want above all things that she should be happy, and if Cyril can
+make her so, I would gladly speed his wooing."
+
+"Do you think he has any thought of her?"
+
+"I am sure he loves her."
+
+"Then why has he given no sign of life all these months?"
+
+"I fancy he is waiting for the year of their mourning to elapse. But I
+confess that I am surprised that he has been able to restrain his
+impatience as long as this. Every day I have expected--"
+
+"By Jove!" cried Campbell, springing to his feet, "there he is now!"
+
+Miss Trevor turned and saw a tall figure emerge from the house.
+
+Being plunged suddenly into the midst of romance, together with the
+unexpected and dramatic arrival of the hero, was too much for the little
+lady's composure. Her bag, her knitting, her glasses fell to the ground
+unheeded as she rose hurriedly to receive Lord Wilmersley.
+
+"So glad to see you! Let me give you a cup of tea, or would you prefer
+some whiskey and soda?" She was so flustered that she hardly knew what
+she was saying.
+
+"Thanks, I won't take anything. Hello, Guy! You here? Rather fancied I
+might run across you."
+
+Cyril's eyes strayed anxiously hither and thither.
+
+"Looking for Anita, are you?" asked Guy.
+
+"I?" Cyril gave a start of guilty surprise. "Yes, I was wondering where
+she was." His tone was excessively casual.
+
+"Humph!" grunted Campbell contemptuously.
+
+"She has gone for a little walk, but as she never leaves the grounds,
+she can't be very far off," said Miss Trevor.
+
+"Perhaps--" Cyril hesitated; he was painfully embarrassed.
+
+Guy came to his rescue.
+
+"Come along," he said. "I will show you where you are likely to find
+her."
+
+"Thanks! I did rather want to see her--ahem, on business!"
+
+"On business? Oh, you old humbug!" jeered Campbell as he sauntered off.
+
+For a moment Cyril glared at Guy's back indignantly; then mumbling an
+apology to Miss Trevor, he hastened after him.
+
+They had gone only a short distance before they espied a small,
+black-robed figure coming towards them. Guy stopped short; he glanced at
+Cyril, but the latter was no longer conscious of his presence. Without a
+word he turned and hurriedly retraced his footsteps.
+
+"Well, Trevie," he said, "I must be going. Can't loaf forever, worse
+luck!" His manner was quite ostentatiously cheerful.
+
+Miss Trevor, however, was not deceived by it. "You are a dear,
+courageous boy," she murmured.
+
+With a flourish of his hat that seemed to repudiate all sympathy, Guy
+turned on his heel and marched gallantly away.
+
+Meanwhile, in another part of the garden, a very different scene was
+being enacted.
+
+On catching sight of each other Cyril and Anita had both halted
+simultaneously. Cyril's heart pounded so violently that he could hardly
+hear himself think.
+
+"I must be calm," he said to himself. "I must be calm! But how beautiful
+she is! If I only had a little more time to collect my wits! I know I
+shall make an ass of myself!"
+
+As these thoughts went racing through his brain, he had been moving
+almost automatically forward. Already he could distinguish the soft
+curve of her parted lips and the colour of her dilated eyes.
+
+A sudden panic seized him. He was conscious of a wild desire to fly from
+her presence; but it was too late. He was face to face with her.
+
+For a moment neither moved, but under the insistence of his gaze her
+eyes slowly sank before his. Then, without a word, as one who merely
+claims his own, he flung his arms around her and crushed her to his
+heart.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+_A Selection from the Catalogue of_ G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+
+The House Opposite
+
+_A Mystery_ By ELIZABETH KENT
+
+Author of "Who?"
+
+
+"It is a very hotbed of mystery, and everything and everybody connected
+with it arouses curiosity.... The plot is unusually puzzling and the
+author has been successful in producing a really admirable work. The
+climax is highly sensational and unexpected, ingeniously leading the
+reader from one guess to another, and finally culminating in a
+remarkable confession."--_N. Y. Journal._
+
+
+Beyond the Law
+
+By Miriam Alexander
+
+_The Great Prize Novel Awarded Prize of $1,250.00_
+
+_Endorsed by A. C. Benson, A. E. W. Mason, W. J. Locke_
+
+
+"We have individually and unanimously given first place to the MSS.
+entitled 'Beyond the Law.' It is a lively, unaffected, and interesting
+story of good craftsmanship, showing imagination and insight, with both
+vivid and dramatic qualities."
+
+The scene is laid in Ireland and in France, the time is the William of
+Orange period, and deals with the most cruel persecution against the
+Catholics of Ireland.
+
+
+The Way of an Eagle
+
+By E. M. Dell
+
+_Frontispiece in Color by John Cassel_
+
+"_A born teller of stories. She certainly has the right stuff in
+her._"--London Standard.
+
+"In these days of overmuch involved plot and diction in the writing of
+novels, a book like this brings a sense of refreshment, as much by the
+virility and directness of its style as by the interest of the story it
+tells.... The human interest of the book is absorbing. The descriptions
+of life in India and England are delightful.... But it is the intense
+humanity of the story--above all, that of its dominating character, Nick
+Ratcliffe, that will win for it a swift appreciation."--_Boston
+Transcript._
+
+"Well written, wholesome, overflowing with sentiment, yet never mawkish.
+Lovers of good adventure will enjoy its varied excitement, while the
+frankly romantic will peruse its pages with joy."--_Chicago
+Record-Herald._
+
+
+Through the Postern Gate
+
+A Romance in Seven Days. (Under the Mulberry Tree.)
+
+_By_ Florence L. Barclay
+
+Author of "The Rosary," "The Mistress of Shenstone," "The Following of
+the Star."
+
+"_A masterpiece._"--Phila. Ledger
+
+"The well-known author of 'The Rosary' has not sought problems to solve
+nor social conditions to arraign in her latest book, but has been
+satisfied to tell a sweet and appealing love-story in a wholesome,
+simple way.... There is nothing startling nor involved in the plot, and
+yet there is just enough element of doubt in the story to stimulate
+interest and curiosity. The book will warm the heart with its sweet and
+straightforward story of life and love in a romantic setting."--_The
+Literary Digest._
+
+_Nearly One Million copies of Mrs. Barclay's popular stories have now
+been printed._
+
+
+
+***
\ No newline at end of file