hought was perpetually in his mind: "Must she not have known what it
was she had with her in the car when she went driving that night?"

After a little, she turned away, as if disappointed that he took no
notice of her presence.

At once he raised himself from the task he had been bending over, and
stood moodily watching the slim, graceful figure, about which hung such
clouds of doubt and dread, and she, turning around suddenly, as if
she actually felt the impact of his gaze, saw him, and saw the strange
expression in his eyes.

"Why do you look at me like that?" she asked quickly, her soft and
gentle tones a little shrill, as though swift fear had come upon her.

"Like what?" he mumbled.

"Oh, you know," she cried passionately. "Am I to be the next?" she
asked.

He started, and looked at her wonderingly, asking himself if these words
of hers bore the grim meaning that his mind instantly gave them.

Was it possible that if she did know something of what was going on in
this quiet country house, during these peaceful autumn days, she knew it
not as willing accomplice, but as a helpless, destined victim who saw no
way of escape.

As if she feared she had said too much, she turned and began to walk
away.

At once he followed.

"Stop one moment," he exclaimed. "Miss Cayley."

She obeyed, turning quickly to face him. They were both very pale, and
both were under the influence of strong excitement. But between
them there hung a thick cloud of doubt and dread that neither could
penetrate.

All at once Dunn, unable to control himself longer, burst out with that
question which for so long had hovered on his lips.

"Do you know," he said, "do you know what you took away with you in the
car that night I came here?"

"The packing-case, you meant," she asked. "Of course I do; I helped to
get it ready--what's the matter?"

"Nothing," he muttered, though indeed he had staggered as beneath some
sudden and violent blow. "Oh--did you?" he said, with an effort.

"Certainly," she answered. "Now I've answered your question, will you
answer me one? Why did you tell us your name was Charley Wright?"

"I knew a man of that name once," he answered. "He's dead now."

"I thought perhaps," she said slowly and quite calmly, "that it was
because you had seen the name written on a photograph in my room."

"No, it wasn't that," he answered gravely, and his doubts that for a
moment had seemed so terribly confirmed, now came back