surprised,and yet allowing her agitation to pass unnoticed.
"Ellice Winsloe. Is he--has he come to London?" she gasped, staring atme and starting.
"Yes, and more. He knows that you slept the night before last atHarker's. He called to see you an hour after we had left yesterday."
"He knows!" she cried in a low, terrified voice.
"Ellice knows that I was there! Then he has followed me--he--he meansto carry out his threat!"
"What threat?"
"Ah, no. I--I'm mad, Wilfrid. I--I don't know what I'm saying!" shecried, pushing her hair from her brow with both her hands and pacing upand down the room. "But you will help me--won't you?" she implored,halting before me and looking me straight in the face.
"Help you--of course," I said. "But I confess I can't understand. Thisman only proposed marriage to you a fortnight ago."
"I know. I know. And I refused him. Ah! Wilfrid. I would ratherkill myself than marry that man!"
"Then you know something concerning him that is not in his favour?"
"I know a great deal. I often wonder why Jack and he are such intimatefriends."
"He's rich, you said, and Lady Scarcliff approved of him."
"That is so," she answered thoughtfully. "But the mater is ignorant ofit all. Ah! if I only dare tell you. It would astound and staggeryou."
"He is in search of you, that's very clear," I said, hoping to induceher to tell me something further.
"But he must not find me," she declared. "The day he discovers me Ishall take my life," she added in a hard, desperate voice.
"Why? Do you fear him?"
She made no answer, but her chin sank upon her breast.
"Then tell me the truth, Tibbie," I said. "He tried to compel you tomarry him because he held some secret of yours that you do not wish tobe known. Am I not right?"
She nodded in the affirmative, and I saw that tears were in her fineeyes.
What was the secret, I wondered? Was it the existence of that low-bornlover, a photograph of whom he had carried in his bag? Did he hold overher a threat of exposure because he had become seized by a desire thatshe should be his wife? Many a woman has been forced into an odiousmarriage in order to preserve her secret.
I looked into her pale haggard face and wondered. How beautiful she wasin her terror and distress. She was in fear of that man, whose lifewas, when viewed in the plain light of day, somewhat mysterious. Butwhat did she fear? Who was the man who had fallen by her hand?
We had arranged that Mrs Williams should cook for us, and presently shecame smilingly to lay the table, simply, but cleanly. Thus, ourconversation was interrupted, but when alone again I returned to thesubject, and she said, with a serious look,--
"Wilfrid, he must not discover me. If he does--if he does, then all isat an end. Even you cannot save me."
"But I fear I may be followed here," I said. "He knew that we met lastnight, or he would not have been aware that you slept at Harker's. He,or someone employed by him, is watching me. I must remain away fromyou."
"Yes," she remarked. "I quite foresee the danger, yet I shall be verylonely. And besides, what can I say to Mrs Williams?"
"We'll have to make an excuse that I've been sent into the country towork," I said. "If I come daily here I'm quite certain Winsloe willdiscover you. This knowledge of his regarding our meeting the daybefore yesterday makes me suspicious."
"You are right," she declared sadly. "He has means of knowingeverything. No secret seems safe from that man, Wilfrid. I sometimesthink--sometimes I think that--" and she hesitated.
"That what?"
But she did not reply. She was standing at the window gazing fixedlydown into the grey, dismal street. The words she had utteredmechanically, just as though she were speaking to herself.
"You told me, Tibbie, that if I pretended to be your husband that Imight save you," I remarked presently.
"And so you may, providing Ellice Winsloe does not discover me. If hedoes--then all is useless--quite useless. I shall have compromisedmyself and placed you in an invidious position, all to no purpose."
"But by discretion--by my remaining away from you, and only coming hereby stealth when I know that Winsloe is not watchful, I may still remainyour husband in the eyes of these people."
"Yes, yes, Wilfrid," she said eagerly, placing her nervous hand upon myshoulder and looking deeply into my eyes. "That is the only way. Imust live here alone--in hiding. They must not find me. Let us havepatience--patience always--and we may foil that man's evil intentions.Ah! If you knew everything you would pity me. But you do not. Youbelieve that I hold some guilty secret. Yes," she added hoarsely, "itis a guilty secret, and how can I sufficiently thank you for trusting meas blindly as you do? I am very unworthy. You are the best friend,Wilfrid, that woman ever had. Can you wonder at the suggestion I madeto you in the Long Gallery the other day?" Then she hesitated, stilllooking me straight in the face. "But you have forgiven me," she wenton with a sigh. "I thought that you loved me still--yes--I was veryfoolish. All women are so sometimes--all women who are terrified andunhappy, as I am!"
And the tears again stood in her eyes as she bowed her beautiful headbefore me.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
IN THE HOUSE OF THE PARHAMS.
That evening, when I returned to Bolton Street, I found Eric awaitingme.
Unseen, he had followed Winsloe to various places during the afternoon,but his movements were in no way suspicious. At Harker's Hotel he had,it appeared, lost all trace of Sybil, and had probably employed aprivate detective to watch my movements.
The adjourned inquest had been held at Midhurst, for in the _Globe_there appeared a four-line paragraph saying that in the case of anunknown man found shot in Charlton Wood, a verdict of wilful murder hadbeen returned, and the matter had been left in the hands of the police.A village tragedy attracts but little notice in London, and all thepapers dismissed it in a paragraph of practically the same wording.
That night we dined with two friends at the Trocadero, and next morningI set forth again upon my inquiries, leaving Eric to act as he thoughtbest. My only promise to him was not to go near my pseudo wife.
My first visit was to the pawnbroker's in the Fulham Road, to whom Ipresented the vouchers I had found upon the dead man, and received onredeeming them a cheap silver Geneva watch and heavy antique gold ring,in which a single ruby was set.
"You don't recollect the gentleman who pledged these, I suppose?" Iasked of the assistant.
The young man, a smart, shrewd fellow, reflected a moment, andanswered,--
"Well, yes, I do remember something of him. We had an argument aboutthe ring. He wanted five pounds on it, and I wouldn't give it."
"What kind of fellow was he?" I asked, explaining that I had bought thetickets from a third person.
"Oh, youngish--with a short brown beard. Evidently a gentleman who washard up. We get lots of them in here."
A brown beard! Had he shaved and disguised himself before his interviewwith Tibbie?
"Tall?" I asked.
"No. Not very."
The description did not answer to that of the dead unknown.
"A stranger?"
"Quite. I'd never seen him before. But the truth is I recollect himbecause that ruby there is a valuable one. I had my doubts at themoment as to its genuineness, and as there were a lot of people waitingI had no time to examine it. So I lent him only a couple o' quid onit."
"Then it's worth more?"
"Yes. If you bought the ticket cheap you've got a bargain. The guv'norhere would give you eighty quid for it, and be pleased."
I looked at it, and saw that it was a very fine stone. To me it seemedevident that the man who had pawned the watch and ring was not the manwho had lost his life in Charlton Wood.
"You think he was a gentleman?"
"Well, he spoke like one, and seemed very much afraid of being seen. Hehesitated when I asked him his name,
so I wrote down the usual one--Green."
"And the address?"
"I put that in also."
So finding I could discover nothing further, I carried away both watchand ring to add to the strange collection of objects which the deadman's pockets had contained.
Close to the corner of Park Lane I came face to face with Winsloe,dressed sprucely as usual in silk hat and frock coat, and he at oncestopped and offered me his hand. Then, after greeting me, he turned onhis heel and walked by my side, saying,--
"I'm just strolling back to the Burlington. I'll come with you."
"You left the Scarcliffs