?"

"When is the next train?" she asked.

"One leaves in an hour from Euston."

She thought a moment.

"I'll go," she said decidedly.

She was walking back to her room to put on her coat when he called her
back.

"There's no reason in the world why you should not write to Beale to
tell him where you have gone," he said. "You can leave a note with me
and I will deliver it."

She hesitated again, sat down at her desk and scribbled the few lines
which Beale had found. Then she twisted round in her chair in
perplexity.

"I don't understand it all," she said. "If Mr. Beale is on the track of
my father, surely he will understand from this letter that I have gone
to meet him."

"Let me see what you have written," said van Heerden coolly, and looked
over her shoulder. "Yes, that's enough," he said.

"Enough?"

"Quite enough. You see, my idea was that you should write sufficient to
put him off the track."

"I don't understand you--there's somebody in the passage," she said
suddenly, and was walking to the door leading to the hall when he
intercepted her.

"Miss Cresswell, I think you will understand me when I tell you that
your father is dead, that the story I have told you about Beale being on
his track is quite untrue, and that it is necessary for a purpose which
I will not disclose to you that you should be my wife."

She sprang back out of his reach, white as death. Instinctively she
realized that she was in some terrible danger, and the knowledge turned
her cold.

"Your wife?" she repeated. "I think you must be mad, doctor."

"On the contrary, I am perfectly sane. I would have asked you before,
but I knew that you would refuse me. Had our friend Beale not
interfered, the course of true love might have run a little more
smoothly than it has. Now I am going to speak plainly to you, Miss
Cresswell. It is necessary that I should marry you, and if you agree I
shall take you away and place you in safe keeping. I will marry you at
the registrar's office and part from you the moment the ceremony is
completed. I will agree to allow you a thousand a year and I will
promise that I will not interfere with you or in any way seek your
society."

Her courage had revived during this recital of her future.

"What do you expect me to do," she asked contemptuously--"fall on your
neck and thank you, you with your thousand a year and your church-door
partings? No, doctor, if you are sane then you are either a great foo