Her attitude convinced me of her guilt, yet what conclusive proof had I?
None--absolutely none.
"Your photograph was found in his rooms. I found it myself," I said.
"Does that prove that I am untruthful?" she inquired, raising her
eyebrows quickly.
I recollected the glove-button. But the gloves she wore were new ones,
and all the buttons were intact.
There was a ring of truth in her denials, yet I was unconvinced. I saw
in her answers careful evasion of my questions. First, I myself had
found poor Roddy dead, and that he had committed suicide six months
before seemed to me but a silly tale. Secondly, her strange actions
were suspicious. Thirdly, her curious association with Muriel seemed
coupled with the latter's disappearance, and her clandestine visit to
Jack Yelverton intensified the mystery in its every detail.
"Of course, the mere finding of a photograph is no proof that you had
met Roddy for six months," I admitted, recollecting Ash's statement that
he had never seen her visit his master.
"Then why suspect me?" she asked, in a tone of reproach.
"I have expressed no suspicion," I said, as calmly as I could. "My
surprise and doubt are surely pardonable under these curious
circumstances--are they not?"
"Certainly!" she responded. "Nevertheless during our acquaintance I
have, you must admit, been as open with you as I have dared. You
professed your love for me," she went on ruthlessly, "but I urged you to
hesitate. Was I not frank with you when I told you plainly that we
could never be lovers?"
I nodded in the affirmative, and sighed when I recollected my lost
Muriel.
"Then why do you charge me with deception?" she asked, stretching out
her tiny foot neat in its suede shoe, and contemplating it. She seemed
nervous and hasty, yet determined to get to the bottom of my suspicions
and so ascertain the depth of my knowledge of the truth.
Detecting this, I resolved to act with discretion and diplomacy. Only
by the exercise of consummate tact could I solve this enigma.
"Deception!" I said. "You must admit that you are deceiving me by
concealing the truth of who and what you are!"
"That is scarcely a polite speech," she observed, toying with the
lorgnette suspended from her neck by a long chain of gold with
turquoises set at intervals. "What do you suspect me to be?" and she
laughed lightly.
"According to your own confession," I responded, "you are possessed of
an influence which is baneful; you are a worker of mysterious evil; a
woman whose contact is as venom, whose touch is blasting as fire!"
"No! no!" she cried, starting up wildly and putting out her hands in
imploring attitude. "I have done you no wrong--I swear I have not!
Spare me your reproaches. A guilt is upon me--a terrible guilt, I
admit--but I have at least spared you. I warned you in time, and you
escaped!"
"Then you are guilty!" I cried quickly, half-surprised at her sudden
confession. But, turning her eyes upon me as she stood, she answered--
"Yes, I am guilty of a deadly sin--a sin that is terrible, awful, and
unforgivable before God--yet, it is not what you suspect. I swear I had
no hand in the death of your friend."
"But you can reveal the truth to me!" I cried. "You shall tell me!" I
added fiercely, as I approached her.
"No," she panted, drawing back, "it is impossible. I--I cannot."
She was confused, pale and flushed by turns, and terribly agitated. I
saw by her attitude she was not speaking the truth. I was convinced
that, even then, she lied to me. Because of that I grew furious.
"If you were innocent you would not fear to explain all you know," I
cried in anger. "In every detail you attempt to baffle me, but you
shall do so no longer."
She smiled a strange, tantalising smile, and leaning against the edge of
the table assumed an easy attitude.
"Is it not the truth that you are a mystery to every one?" I went on
heedlessly, at that instant recollecting the conversation between
herself and the stranger in Hyde Park. "Is it not the truth that your
character is such that, if the people of London knew its true estimate,
you would be mobbed and torn limb from limb?"
She started, glaring at me quickly in fear.
"This denunciation is very amusing," she said, with a forced laugh.
"Amusing!" I cried. "I have not forgotten how your presence here had
the effect of reducing sacred objects to ashes; I have not forgotten
your own confession to me that you were a worker of iniquity, a woman
endowed with an irresistible devastating force--the force of hell
itself!"
"And even though I confessed to you, you now charge me with deception,"
she answered in a strained tone. "You offered me your love, but I was
self-denying, and urged you to forget me and love Muriel Moore, who was
as pure and upright as I am wanton and sinful. Did you take my advice?"
"Yes," I answered, a trifle more calmly. "But she is now lost to me."
"I am aware of that," she responded. "You tarried too long ere you
declared your affection."
"Then you know her whereabouts?" I cried eagerly. "Tell me."