Ellsworth has gone to her room," he explained, "and--er--your
friend--your fiance--is looking for a taxi, not to keep you waiting. He
didn't leave till Mrs. Ellsworth went. I don't think he would have
trusted me to protect you without him, though I--er--I did my best with
her. Good heavens, what a fury! I never saw that side of her before! I
must say, I don't blame you for making your own plans, Miss Grayle. I--I
don't blame you for anything, and I hope you'll feel the same toward me.
I'd be sorry to think that--er--after our pleasant acquaintance this was
to be our last meeting. Won't you show that you forgive me for the
mistake I made--I think it was natural--and tell me what your married
name will be?"

Annesley looked anxiously at the half-open front door. If only the absent
one would return and save her from this new dilemma! If she did not
speak, Mr. Ruthven Smith would think her harsh and unforgiving, yet she
could not answer unless she gave the name adopted temporarily for
convenience. She hesitated, her eyes on the door; but the darkness and
silence outside sent a doubt into her heart, cold and sickly as a bat
flapping in from the night.

_What if he never came back?_ What if the watchers had been hiding out
there, lying in wait and, two against one--both bigger men physically
than he, and perhaps armed--they had overpowered him? What if she were
never to see him again, and this hour which had seemed the beginning of
hope were to be its end?

CHAPTER VII

THE COUNTESS DE SANTIAGO

"You don't wish to tell me the name?" Ruthven Smith was saying.

The repetition irritated the girl, whose nerves were strained to snapping
point. She could not parry the man's questions. She could not bear his
grieved or offended reproaches. If he persisted, through these moments of
suspense, she would scream or burst out crying. Trembling, with tears in
her voice, she heard herself answer. And yet it did not seem to be
herself, but something within, stronger than she, that suddenly took
control of her.

"Why should I not wish to tell you?" the Something was saying. "The name
is the same as your own--Smith. Nelson Smith." And before the words had
left her lips a taxi drew up at the door.

There was one instant of agony during which the previous suspense seemed
nothing--an instant when the girl forgot what she had said, her soul
pressing to the windows of her eyes. Was it he who had come, or----

It was he. Before sh