"What's his name?" I asked quickly.
"Henry Hibbert."
"And he is shop-walker at your place?"
"Certainly."
"Why didn't you tell me this before, when I asked you?" I inquired.
"Because I had no desire that you should sneer at me for walking out
with a man of that kind," she responded. "But now that it is all past,
I can fearlessly tell you the truth."
"But what made you take up with him?" I asked, eager now to at least
penetrate some portion of the mystery, for I recollected that night in
the Park, when I had overheard this man Hibbert's strange conversation
with Aline.
"I really don't know what caused me to entertain any regard for him,"
she answered.
"How did it come about?"
"We were introduced one night in the Monico. I somehow thought him
pleasant and well-mannered, and, I don't know how it was, but I found
myself thinking always of him. We met several times, but then I did not
know what he was. I had no idea that he was a shop-walker. It was
because of my foolish infatuation, I suppose, that I cast aside your
love. But from that moment my regret increased, until I could bear the
separation no longer, and I came to-night to seek your forgiveness."
"But what knowledge of this man had you before that night in the cafe?"
I inquired. "Who introduced you?"
"A girl friend. I knew nothing of him before, and have since come to
the conclusion that she knew him but slightly."
"Then was he, at this time, engaged in the shop in the Holloway Road?"
I asked, feeling that this fact should be at once cleared up.
"I think so."
"Are you absolutely certain?"
"No, I'm not. Why do you ask?"
"Because," I answered reflectively, "because it is strange that you
should have taken an engagement at the very shop where he was employed."
"It was he who gave me the introduction there," she said. "Only when I
got there and commenced work did I find to my surprise that the man who
had interested himself on my behalf was actually the shop-walker. He
saw the look of surprise upon my face, and laughed heartily over it."
"Did you never seek to inquire how long previously he had been employed
there?"
"No. It never occurred to me to do so," she answered.
"But you can discover now easily enough, I suppose?"
"Of course I can," she replied. "But why are you so anxious to know?"
"I have a reason for desiring to know the exact date on which he entered
the firm's employ," I said. "You will find it out for me at once, won't
you?"
"If you wish."
"Then let me know by letter as soon as you possibly can," I urged
quickly.
"But you need not be jealous of him, Clifton," she said, seeking to
reassure me. With her woman's quick instinct she saw that my anger had
been raised against him.
"How can I help being annoyed?" I said. "The facts seem quite plain
that he first took service with this firm, and then most probably
obtained the dismissal of one of the girls in order to make a vacancy
for you. He was in love with you, I suppose," I added, rather harshly.
"Love was never mentioned between us," she declared. "We merely went
out and about together, and in business he used to chat and joke with
me. But as for love--"
And she laughed scornfully, without concluding her sentence.
"And the other girls were jealous of you--eh?"
She laughed.
"I suppose they were," she answered.
"Was this man--Hibbert was his name?--an experienced shop-walker?"
"I think so," she replied. "But he was disliked on account of his
harshness and his constant fining of everybody."
"Except you."
"Yes," she laughed. "I generally managed to escape."
She noticed the hard look in my face, as I pondered over the strange
fact. That this man who was such an intimate acquaintance of Aline's
was actually shop-walker where Muriel was employed added to the mystery
considerably, rather than decreasing it.
"Why need we discuss him now?" she asked. "It is all over."
"But your acquaintance with this man who has evidently striven to win
your love must still continue if you remain where you are," I said in a
tone of annoyance.
"No," she replied. "It is already at an end."
"But he's your shop-walker. If you have refused to go out with him, in
future he'll undoubtedly vent his spiteful wrath upon you."
"Oh no, he won't," she laughed.
"Why?"
"Because he has left."
"Left!" I echoed. "Of course you know where he is?"
"No, I don't," she replied. "He annoyed me in business by speaking
harshly to me before a customer, and I told him plainly that I would
never again go out in his company. He apologised, but I was obdurate,
and I have never seen him since. He went away that night, and has not
returned. His place was filled up to-day. At first it was thought that
he might have stolen something; but nothing has been missed, and now his
sudden departure is believed to be due to his natural impetuousness and
eccentricity."
"Then it would seem that owing to a disagreement with you he left his
employment. That's really very remarkable!" I said.
"Yes. Everybody thinks it strange, but, of course, they don't know that
we quarrelled."
"And you swear to me that you have never loved him, Muriel?" I asked,
looking straight into her upturned face.
"I swear to you, Clifton," she answered. "I swear that he has never
once kissed me, nor has he uttered a word of affection. We were merely
friends."
"Then that makes the aspect of affairs even more puzzling," I observed.
"That he had some motive for leaving secretly there is no doubt. What,
I wonder, could it have been?"
"I don't know, and it really doesn't trouble me," she replied. "I was
exceedingly glad when he went, and now am doubly glad that I came and
sought your forgiveness."
"And I too, dearest," I said, holding her hand tenderly in mine. "But,
truth to tell, I have no confidence in that man. There was something
about him that I didn't like, and this latest move has increased my
suspicion."
"What suspicion?"
"That his intentions were not honest ones!" I answered.
"Why, Clifton," she cried, "what an absurd fancy! Do you think that
because I broke off his acquaintance, he intends to murder me?"
"I have no definite views on the subject," I answered, "except that he
intended to do you some evil, and has up to the present been thwarted."
"You'll make me quite nervous if you talk like that," she responded,
laughing. "Let us forget him. You once admired that woman, Aline
Cloud, but that circumstance has passed out of my mind."
"You must leave that place and go down to Stamford," I said decisively.
"A rest in the country will do you good, and in a few months we will
marry."
"I'll have to give a month's notice before I leave," she answered.
"No. Leave to-morrow," I said. "For I cannot bear to think, dearest,
that now you are to be my wife you should still bear that terrible
drudgery."
She sighed, and her countenance grew troubled, as if something oppressed
her. This caused me some apprehension, for it seemed as though, even
now, she was not perfectly happy.
I gave tongue to this thought, but with a light laugh she assured me of
her perfect contentment, and that her regret was only of the past.
Then we sat together, chatting in ecstatic enthusiasm, as I suppose all
lovers do, planning a future, wherein our bliss was to be unalloyed and
our love undying. And as we talked I saw how at last she became
composed in that haven of contentment which is so perfect after the
troubled sea of regret and despair, while I, too, felt that at last I
wanted nothing, for the great desire of my life had been fulfilled.
Suddenly, however, thoughts of Aline, the mysterious woman who had come
between us so strangely, the friend of this man Hibbert and the secret
acquaintance of poor Roddy, crossed my mind, and I resolved to gain from
her what knowledge she possessed. Therefore, with care and skill I led
our conversation up to her, and then point-blank asked her what she knew
regarding this woman whose face was that of an angel, and whose heart
was that of Satan.
I saw how she started at mention of Aline's name; how the colour fled
from her cheeks, and how sudden was her resolve to fence with me; for at
once she asserted her ignorance, and suggested that we might mutually
agree to bury the past.
"But she is a mystery, Muriel," I said; "a mystery which I have been
trying in vain to solve through all these months. Tell me all you know
of her, dearest."
"I know nothing," she declared, in a nervous tone. "Absolutely
nothing."
"But are you aware that this man, Hibbert, the man with whom you
associated, was her friend--her lover?"
"What!" she cried, her face in an instant undergoing a strange
transformation. "He--her lover?"
"Yes," I answered. "Did you not know they were friends?"
"I can't believe it," she answered, pale-faced and bewildered. Whatever
was the revelation I had made to her it had evidently caused within her
a strong revulsion of feeling. I had, indeed, strong suspicion that
these words of mine had supplied some missing link in a chain of facts
which had long perplexed and puzzled her.
"What causes you to allege this?" she asked quickly, looking sharply
into my eyes.
"Because I have seen them together," I answered. "I have overheard
their conversation."
"It can't be true that they are close acquaintances," she said in a low,
mechanical voice, as though speaking to herself. "It's impossible."
"Why impossible?" I inquired.
"Because there are facts which have conclusively shown that there could
have been no love between them."
"Are those facts so remarkable, Muriel, that you are compelled to
conceal them from me?" I asked seriously in earnest.
"At present they are," she faltered. "What you have told me has
increased the mystery tenfold. I had never expected that they were
friends."
"And if they were, what then?" I inquired in eagerness.
"Then the truth must be stranger than I had ever dreamed," she answered
in a voice which betrayed her blank bewilderment.
The striking of the clock warned her that it was time she was going, and
caused me to recollect that a man would call in a few minutes to repay a
loan I had given him. He was an officer--a very decent fellow whom I
had known for years, and who for a few weeks had been in rather low
water. But he was again in funds, and having met me at the club that
afternoon he promised to run over at ten o'clock, smoke a cigar, and
repay me.
I regretted this engagement, because it prevented me seeing Muriel home;
but when I referred to it she declared that she would take a cab from
the rank outside, as she had done so many times in the old days of our
friendship, and she would get back quite comfortably.
She buttoned her gloves, and after kissing me fondly re-adjusted her
veil. Then, when we had repeated our vows of undying affection and she
had promised me to return and lunch with me next morning, as it was
Sunday, she went out and down the stairs.
I was a trifle annoyed that, at the club earlier in the day, I had made
the appointment with Bryant, but the sum I had lent was sixty pounds,
and, knowing what a careless fellow he was, I felt that it was best to
obtain repayment now, when he offered it; hence I was prevented from
accompanying Muriel. But as it could not be avoided, and as she had
expressed herself perfectly content to return alone, I cast myself again
in my chair, mixed a whiskey and soda, lit a cigarette, and gave myself
up to reflection.
Muriel loved me. I cared for nought else in all the world. She would
be my wife, and after travelling on the Continent for a while we would
live somewhere in the country quietly, where we could enjoy ourselves
amid that rural peace which to the London-worn is so restful, so
refreshing, and so soothing.
After perhaps a quarter of an hour I heard Simes go to the door, and
Bryant's voice exclaim hurriedly--"Is your master in?"
"Come in, my dear fellow! Come in!" I shouted, without rising from my
chair.
Next instant he dashed into the room, his face white and scared,
exclaiming--
"There's something wrong down at the bottom of your stairs! Come with
me and see, old chap. There's a girl lying there--a pretty girl dressed
in grey--and I believe she's dead."
"Dead!" I gasped, petrified, for the description he had given was that
of Muriel.
"Yes," he cried, excitedly. "I believe she's been murdered!"