"I think it unnecessary that you should deny this, when the truth is so
very plain," I observed sarcastically. "You will, perhaps, next deny
that a young man was foully murdered within that house in The Boltons;
that you were present, and that you are aware of the identity of those
who committed the crime?"
The pallor of her cheeks showed plainly that I had recalled unwelcome
memories.
"The unfortunate affair is all of the past," she said hoarsely. "Why
need we discuss it?"
"In the interests of justice," I answered, with firm determination.
"Have you not agreed to remain silent? Have you not, as recompense,
received back your sight, and become enriched beyond your wildest
dreams? Surely you, at least, should not complain."
"I complain of the manner in which the secret of the crime has been
preserved," I said. "I have determined, however, that it shall remain
secret no longer."
"You would inform the police!" she gasped, for the moment unable to
conceal her alarm.
"If you have no knowledge of Mrs Anson, then I intend to invoke the aid
of Scotland Yard in order to discover her."
My words perplexed her. That she was acquainted with the Ansons I had
no doubt, and I was likewise certain that she would never risk
information being given to the police. More than once in the days long
past I had entertained a shrewd suspicion that she herself was the
actual murderer of that young unknown man. I looked at her pale face,
and vaguely wondered again whether such were the truth.
The fact that she had secured my silence in return for my life as an
outcome of that most ingenious conspiracy had seemed to me proof
conclusive of her guilt, and now that we had met in those strange
circumstances the idea became impressed upon me more forcibly than ever.
What might be her real position in the secret diplomacy of Bulgaria I
knew not. It was evident that considerable confidence was reposed in
her. She had come to me with a cool demand to raise a loan of half a
million sterling, and it was plain from what she had explained that the
money was urgently needed for the protection of the State against
enemies both internal and external. My own position was unique. Had
not Gedge shown me those official documents, which gave me concessions
in the Principality of Bulgaria, I should have laughed this woman's
curious story to scorn as a piece of impossible fiction. But I had
glanced over some of those papers at Denbury, and was satisfied that I
had actually had many dealings with that State during the six years of
my unconscious but prosperous existence. There seemed every truth in
her statement that to her had been due my success in the City in the
first instance.
"And supposing you broke your promise and went to Scotland Yard?" she
suggested at length, her eyes still fixed upon me. "What would you
expect to find?"
"To find?" I echoed. "I should find traces of the crime within that
room."
She nodded. I had expected my words to have some confusing effect upon
her, nevertheless, on the contrary, she remained perfectly calm. Her
self-control was extraordinary.
"And what would it profit you, pray?" she asked.
"I should at least know that I had endeavoured to bring to justice those
responsible for the poor fellow's death."
"It would only be an endeavour--a vain one, I assure you."
"You mean that the secret is too well concealed ever to be revealed," I
observed quickly.
"Yes," she said; "you have guessed aright."
"And, in other words, you defy me to discover the truth?"
"I have not said so. The word defy is scarcely one which should be used
between us, I think, considering that our interests are to-day mutual--
just as they were on the night of the crime."
"I fail to see that," I answered. "I have no interest whatever in
keeping this terrible secret hidden, for while I do so I am acting the
part of accessory."
"But surely you have an interest in preserving your own life?" she
urged.
"Then you imply that if I were to lay information at Scotland Yard I
should be in peril of my life?" I asked, looking straight into those
calm eyes that ever and anon seemed full of mystery.
"Of that I cannot speak with any degree of certainty," she responded.
"I would only warn you that in this matter continued silence is by far
the best."
"But you have uttered a veiled threat!" I cried. "You are aware of the
whole facts, and yet refuse to impart to me the simple information of
the whereabouts of Mrs Anson. Do you think it possible in such a case
that I can entertain any confidence in you, or in your extraordinary
story regarding the affairs of Bulgaria and its Prince?"
"I am unable to give you any information regarding the lady you
mention," she replied, with a slight frown of annoyance.
"But you are acquainted with her?"
"I may be--what then?"
"I demand to know where she is."
"And in reply I tell you that I am in ignorance."
"In that case," I said angrily, "I refuse to have any further dealings
whatsoever with you. From the first I became drawn into a trap by you,
bound down and for six years held silent by your threats. But, madam, I
now tell you plainly of my intentions. I mean to-morrow to lay the
whole facts before the Director of Criminal Investigations, including
this story of yours regarding the Prince and his people."
She rose slowly from her chair, perfectly calm, her dignity unruffled.
Her manner was absolutely perfect. Had she been a princess herself she
could not have treated my sudden ebullition of anger with greater
disdain.
She gathered up the papers she had put before me, and, replacing them in
the dispatch-box, locked it with the golden master-key upon her bangle.