course. Hitherto you had not seen her for several months.” “No. She has been abroad, I understand.” “Yes. In Italy.” “And she invited me with some sinister motive?” I exclaimed in surprise. “She wishes to resume your acquaintance, and to regain your confidence. It was, I think, part of an intrigue.” “I refused her invitation,” I said. “I had long ago discovered that she was not my friend.” “That is fortunate. Otherwise you might have cause to deeply regret it. The woman is an adventuress of the worst type—a fact which I daresay you are already aware of.” “I discovered it by mere accident, and for that reason I dropped her acquaintance. But what you have told me is utterly astounding.” “That man’s end relieves you of all further anxiety, yet at the same time it dooms me to shame—and to death!” she remarked hoarsely, rising suddenly to her feet with quick resolution. I made no remark. What she had revealed to me was so bewildering. That the woman, before me had interests in common with myself was now plain. She was in deep distress—in fear of what the dark future held in store for her, abandoned by the one man who could clear her of this mysterious allegation, so infamous that she dare not repeat it to me, a stranger. Her grace and beauty, too, were assuredly incomparable. Truly she was one of the prettiest women I had ever met—yet at the same time the most despairing. I saw tragedy in her countenance—the shadow of death was in her eyes, and I stood before her silent and fascinated by the mystery which enveloped her. “I must go, Mr Leaf,” she said. “I must telegraph to my father and inform him of the contretemps which has occurred. He will direct me how to act. But before I go I would like to thank you very very much for your great kindness and sympathy towards me. I am sure that, if possible, you would seek to assist me. But it is out of the question—entirely out of the question. What must be, must be.” And she put out her small hand to me in farewell. “There must, I am sure, be some
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