said. "It is your hand that has placed those fresh flowers upon his grave."

She was silent. Then in a low voice she said--"I admit that I have done so, for he was always my friend--always. But please say nothing to my father regarding what I have done."

"To me a great mystery enshrouds Mr Arnold," I said. "Cannot you tell me something concerning him--who and what he was? By my very slight knowledge of him, I feel instinctively that he was no ordinary person."

"And your estimate was surely a perfectly correct one, Mr Kemball. He was one of the most remarkable of men."

"You knew of his death. How?"

"I knew he was in London, for he scribbled me a note telling me his address, but requesting me to reveal it to nobody, not even my father," she said, in a low, hoarse voice. "I called to see him upon some urgent business--because he wished to see me, but, alas! they told me at the hotel that he had died only a few hours before. So I went away, fearing to reveal myself to you, who they told me was his friend. Two days later I made inquiries, and learned where they had buried him. Then, in tribute to the memory of the man of whose greatness of heart and remarkable attainments the world has remained in ignorance, I laid flowers upon his grave."

"Why did you fear to reveal yourself to me, Miss Seymour?" I asked earnestly, looking straight into her soft brown eyes as the car rushed along.

But she avoided my gaze, while a flush overspreading her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment.

"Because--well, because I did not know how far you might be trusted," was her frank, open response, after a moment's hesitation. "Indeed, I do not even now know whether you would still remain our friend and preserve the secret if the ugly truth became revealed to you!"

CHAPTER SEVEN.
DAWNAY MAKES CONFESSION.

Her curious reply greatly puzzled me. What could be "the ugly truth" to which she had referred?

At her side I sat in silence for some time. The car was tearing along a wide straight main road between dusty hedges and many telegraph wires, and as I glanced at her I saw that she was staring straight before her fixedly, with a strange hard look upon her beautiful countenance.

Perhaps I might have been mistaken, but at 

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