all that
you must suffer, Phrida, but I am your friend and your protector. I will
never rest until I get at the truth."

"Ah! Revelation of the truth will, alas! prove my undoing!" she
whispered, in a voice full of fear. "You don't know, dear, how your
relentless chase of that man is placing me in danger."

"But he is an adventurer, an impostor--a fugitive from justice, and he
merits punishment!" I cried.

"Ah! And if you say that," she cried, wildly starting to her feet. "So do
I! So do I!"

"Come, calm yourself, dearest," I said, placing my hand upon her shoulder
and forcing her back into her chair. "You are upset to-night," and I
kissed her cold, white lips. "May I ring for Mallock? Wouldn't you like
to go to your room?"

She drew a deep sigh, and with an effort repressed the tears welling in
her deep-set, haunted eyes.

"Yes," she faltered in her emotion. "Perhaps I had better. I--I cannot
bear this strain much longer. You told me that the police did not suspect
me, but--but, now I know they do. A man has been watching outside the
house all day for two days past. Yes," she sobbed, "they will come, come
to arrest me, but they will only find that--that I've cheated them!"

"They will not come," I answered her. "I happen to know more than I can
tell you, Phrida," I whispered. "You need have no fear of arrest."

"But that woman Petre! She may denounce me--she will, I know!"

"They take no notice of such allegations at Scotland Yard. They receive
too much wild correspondence," I declared. "No, dearest, go to bed and
rest--rest quite assured that at present you are in no peril, and,
further, that every hour which elapses brings us nearer a solution of the
tragic and tantalising problem. May I ring for Mallock?" I asked, again
kissing her passionately upon those lips, hard and cold as marble, my
heart full of sympathy for her in her tragic despair.

"Yes," she responded faintly in a voice so low that I could hardly catch
it. So I crossed and rang the bell for her maid.

Then, when she had kissed me good-night, looking into my eyes with a
strange expression of wistfulness, and left the room, I dashed across to
that little table whereon the ivory-hilted knife was lying and seized the
important piece of evidence, so that it might not fall into Edwards'
hands.

I held it within my fingers, and taking it across to the fireplace,
examined it in the strong light. The ivory was yellow and old, carved
with the escut