itude to learn that Anne was not
connected with----Here he paused, more bewildered than ever. "I don't
quite understand, Princess," he said, trying to arrive in his own mind
at some solution of this complicated mystery. "Had not your husband a
brother called Walter?"

"No. George was an only son."

"Then did Alfred Denham have a brother of that name?"

"No. Don't you understand, Mr. Ware. You have been deceived. Denham, who
calls himself by my husband's name pretends to be Anne's father, was the
man who went down to Rickwell."

"The man whom Anne helped to escape."

"Yes. Under the belief that he is her father, poor child."

"Then there is no Walter Franklin. He is a myth?" The Princess nodded.

"Invented to throw you off the scent."

"And Denham, who calls himself George Franklin, really killed Daisy?"

"I believe he did," declared the Princess fiercely. "That man is one of
the most wicked creatures born. He is capable of any crime."

Ware said nothing. His brain refused to take in the explanation. That he
should have been so deceived seemed incredible, yet deceived he had
been. All this time he had been following a phantom, while the real
person was tricking him with masterly ingenuity. "But Anne told me
herself that she had an uncle called Walter," said he suddenly.

"Of course! To save the man she believed to be her father."

"Wait! Wait! I can't grasp it yet." Giles buried his face in his hands
and tried to think the matter out.

The Princess went to the window and drew aside the curtain. "I see
nothing of Anne and Olga," she murmured. "Where can they have got to.
Oh, am I to lose her after all?" She paused and came back to the couch.
"Mr. Ware," she said, "I will tell you all my sad story, and then you
can judge what is best to be done."

"That is best," said Giles, lifting up his worn face. "I am quite in the
dark so far. The thing seems to be incredible."

"Truth is stranger than fiction," said the Princess quietly. "That is a
truism, but no other saying can apply to what I am about to tell you."

"One moment, Princess. Who found out that Denham was masquerading as
your late husband?"

"Olga found it out. I don't know how. She refuses to tell me."

"And she asked you to come over to identify the man?"

"Yes. That was why I went with her to Rickwell. I called on Denham, and
saw that he was not my husband."

"I see!" murmured Giles, remembering what the gardener had told Mrs.
Parry about th