police also held a warrant for an offence I committed withoutthe least criminal intent. Ah! my story is a strange one; stranger thanany have imagined."
"Yes," observed Dora, "the little I know of it astounds me. When thetrue facts are made known and the murderer of Gilbert Sternroydarrested, what a scandal it will cause!"
"Then who is the culprit?" I inquired, in breathless anxiety to solvethe inscrutable mystery that had so long puzzled me.
"Be patient for a moment," Sybil answered, "and I will explain events intheir sequence. Then you will see plainly by whose hand Gilbert fell."
"You knew him, did you not?" I asked.
"Ah!" she said smiling. "You purchased my photograph--the one I hadcaused to be placed in the shop-window in Regent Street, so that youshould notice it, and on buying it, as I knew you must, you would learnthat I still lived."
"Yes. But I could not believe the truth," I said hastily. "It was soincredible that I came to the conclusion that the photographer had madesome mistake about the date." Then I added: "Why was Sternroyd placedbeside you?"
"There was a reason, which you will shortly see," she replied. "I knewGilbert, it is true. Do not, however, for a moment imagine he was everfond of me. He was engaged to someone else."
She had taken a few steps backward and sunk upon a low chair, while Dorahad crossed to the fireplace and ensconced herself in a corner, whereshe sat in silence, watching us with undisguised satisfaction. I, too,had seated myself in an arm-chair, so near that of Sybil that I couldhold and caress her tiny hand.
"Your ring," I exclaimed, noticing her wedding-ring, "is that the one Iplaced upon your finger?"
She smiled and sadly shook her head, replying:
"No, you did not place it there."
"What!" I cried amazed. "Are you not my wife? Is not that yourwedding-ring?"
"No, Stuart," she answered very gravely. "This is my wedding-ring, it'strue, but you are not my husband."
"Then you have--you've married someone else!" I gasped, starting up.But she gripped my wrist, forcing me firmly back into my chair, saying:
"Did you not, a moment ago, promise you would hear me without question?Have patience, and you shall know everything--everything."
Then, sighing heavily, she pushed the tendrils of fair hair from herwhite, open brow, while I sank back among the cushions impatient andperplexed.
"Only to-day, a few hours ago, the chains of the thraldom under which Ihave lived were drawn so tightly around me, galling me to the quick,"she said, in a low, hurried voice, after sitting a few moments silentand agitated. "Only this morning I saw how hopeless was the effort toelude that thraldom in the smallest degree that my whole being ached intorture, and I hated the world and wished to escape from it; yet the twoevents for which I have longed through all these dreary, wearying dayshave now occurred. I am free to speak, and you have come to me withforgiveness on your lips."
I waited expecting her to continue, but she remained silent.
"Speak, why do you pause?" I asked, impatiently I am afraid.
"I paused, Stuart, because I am doubtful as to how you will take what Iam about to say."
"As you mean it, be assured," I answered.
"Then listen, and I will tell you." Again she hesitated, pressing herhand upon her eyes, the while her soft bust heaved with a troublousemotion. Presently, in the same low, faltering voice as before, shesaid: "You will remember, Stuart, that I fled from you in Luchon with acold formal note of farewell. On that day, blindly, willingly I tookupon myself the burthen of another's sin. Blindly I resigned myself toa fate worse than that of the doomed. Although I loved you fondly, Iwas forced to bow my head calmly and submit to be branded with a veryleprosy of guilt. Because I loved you and permitted your attentions Iwas to be a painted puppet, to move about with a curse riveted around mylife, to move about and even feel that curse fretting and gnawing at mysoul, and yet without the power to win a moment's peace save in thegrave. There, only there, might I find rest."
"This is terrible," I cried. "Surely you deceive yourself. There is nopower on earth that could have held you thus."
"Ah! yes. The chain was there--there, clasped around my heart, crushingout every gleam of hope. I was lighthearted and heedless; I could notsee the life of torture to which I was yielding myself, so innocently Ifell into the trap my enemies had cunningly baited, that ere I realisedthe truth the bonds were irrevocably welded around my life. At firstthey sat lightly upon me, and I scarcely felt them; but slowly I becameconscious that there hung a deep shadow upon my every step; slowly Ibecame conscious that my every act and word must be in unison with thethraldom under which I moved. At last I knew that I had passed beyondyour ken; I knew that I must renounce all thought of you, and I becamecold and, I sometimes think, callous. But I prayed, I begged of Heaventhat I might lose the feelings of a woman since I had lost herprivileges."
She spoke in a hot, dry feverish tone--a tone that I would not haverecognised as that of the low, musical voice of my love. Dora, risingfrom her seat, stood near her, gazing in wonder at her friend from whoseagony these revelations were wrung.
"When I met you, Stuart, I was giddy and thoughtless," she went on,feverishly. "Towards you my whole soul yearned. Heart, soul and lifewere all yours; for I loved, I loved! But, alas! our supreme happinesswas not for long. In fear of my liberty, I was compelled to fly fromyou and allow you to believe I had forgotten. Thus in the first momentalmost, when a sweet vision of joy flashed upon me, the door of mydungeon was closed, the chains were clasped tightly around my soul, andI was wrenched back from happiness."
Low tremulous sobs interrupted each word, and every moment it seemed asif she were about to lose control over herself.
"Those who needed me knew well when they might best use me to theiradvantage. They had seen me waver in my allegiance under the influenceof that mad love for you, and they dreaded lest some accident shouldmake me betray their trust. I had entered the closet of their secret,and once in, they were resolved that there should be no loophole for myescape. But I must begin at the beginning, and tell you who and what Iam. First, the name I gave you was not assumed, as you must havebelieved. I am Sybil Henniker, a French subject, born in Paris of aFrench father and an English mother. My father, a wealthy Deputy, waskilled while hunting, and my mother shortly afterwards married anEnglishman, but she, too, died within a year, leaving the whole of herfortune to my sister Ethel, who was a year my senior. AnotherEnglishman, a crafty, sycophantic lickspittle of my stepfather, marriedher, having made a secret compact, by which the two men shared theestate. At that time we were living in Paris, and there came to ourhouse Gilbert Sternroyd, a rich young Englishman of Socialistictendencies. He had become imbued with Anarchist ideas, and soondeveloped into an ardent disciple of Ravachol. His theories heexpounded to me almost daily, until at length I joined their brotherhoodand furnished small sums of money when required. Ah! you will condemnme, I know. It was, I admit, foolish, but remember I did not dream thatthey would use my money in their attempts to take the lives of innocentpersons by means of bombs. It was represented to me that money wasrequired to diffuse Anarchist literature. With secret murder I had nosympathy, I swear. I was in Luchon with my stepfather when he wassuddenly recalled to Paris; then I met you and we spent some happy daystogether, until--until a telegram in cipher reached me one night and theblow that I feared fell--a warrant was out for my arrest. There hadbeen on the previous afternoon a terrible Anarchist outrage at theChamber of Deputies, and the police, in make some domiciliary visits tosuspected Anarchists, had discovered one of my letters which wasundoubtedly incriminating. I scribbled you a hasty line of farewell,packed my trunk and left by the first train in the morning, travellingfirst to Bayonne, then to Madrid and Seville, whence some weeks later Iwent to London. I thought to escape by getting to England, and intendedto at once write to you, but in London I found my brother-in-law andstepfather awaiting me. Then, for the first time, I realised t
he truth.I had been caught in the net they had so cunningly prepared!"
Again there was silence, broken only by her sobs. I saw only Sybilbefore me, with all the old love warm upon her pale tear-stained face.I saw her struggle with the secret that held her aloof from me. Iwitnessed the struggle and knew its meaning. I knew that she wassuffering even as I suffered.
There was another pang thrust into my heart in knowing of her torture.
"My stepfather and his unctuous confederate, cowards that they were,claimed my help, claimed it in the name of all that had been done for mein effecting my escape, and--and I could not deny them." As she spokeshe clung tremblingly to Dora, as if fearful of her own words. Therewas a bewildered