deeply into a
quagmire of suspicion and horror. The more I tried to extricate myself
the deeper I sank.

"But whoever the poor girl may have been, you still maintain that Phrida
Shand was Digby's most deadly enemy?" I asked quickly, setting a trap for
her.

I took her unawares, and she fell into it.

"Yes," was her prompt response. An instant later, however, realising how
she had been led to make an allegation which she had not intended, she
hastened to correct herself, saying: "Ah, no! Of course, I do not allege
that. I--I only know that Digby was acquainted with her, and that----"

"Well?" I asked slowly, when she paused.

"That--that he regretted the acquaintanceship."

"Regretted? Why?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders. All along she had been cognisant of the
tragedy, yet with her innate cleverness she had not admitted her
knowledge.

"A man often regrets his friendship with a woman," she said, with a
mysterious air.

"What!" I cried fiercely. "Do you make an insinuation that----"

"My dear Mr. Royle," she laughed, "I make no insinuation. It was you who
have endeavoured to compel me to condemn her as Digby's enemy. You
yourself suggested it!"

"But you have told me that his fiercest and most bitter enemy was a
woman!"

"Certainly. But I have not told you that woman's name, nor do I intend to
break my vow of secrecy to Digby--fugitive that he may be at this moment.
Yet, depend upon it, he will return and crush his enemies in the dust."

"I hope he will," was my fervent reply. "Yet I love Phrida Shand, and
upon her there rests a terrible cloud of suspicion."

She was silent for a moment, still standing beneath the lamp, gazing at
me with those big, dark eyes.

At last she said:

"The way out is quite easy."

"How?"

"If you have any regard for your future put your love aside," was her
hard response.

"You hate her!" I said, knitting my brows, yet recollecting the proof I
had secured of her presence in Digby's flat.

"Yes," was her prompt response. "I hate her--I have cause to hate her!"

"What cause?"

"That is my own affair, Mr. Royle--my own secret. Find Digby, and he
will, no doubt, tell you the truth."

"The truth concerning Phrida?"

"Yes."

"But he knew I was engaged to her! Why did he not speak?"

"And expose her secret?" she asked. "Would he have acted as a gentleman
had he done so? Does a man so lightly betray a woman's honour?"

"A woman's honour!" I gasped, staring at