Was Illona, my wife, identical with the Little Countess, my enemy? It
certainly seemed so. I reviewed the facts in their true sequence. That
the little Italian pseudo-aristocrat was an intimate friend of the
fugitive Owen had been proved by me, myself. In Rome she had wilfully
misled me, knowing that in my condition of aberration I did not
recognize her; and, she still believed in her power to impose on me.
So far all was clear. But had she further imposed on me during my two
years of unconsciousness so that I had married her under the
euphonious name of Illona?
Could that be possible?