"I KNOW IT, COUSIN CYRIL"
Cyril leaned wearily back in his chair. He was in that state of
apathetic calm which sometimes succeeds a violent emotion. Of his wife
he had neither seen or heard anything since they parted the night
before.
"My lord!"
Cyril started, for he had not noticed Peter's entrance and the
suppressed excitement of the latter's manner alarmed him.
"What is the matter now?" he demanded.
"She's 'ere, my lord," replied Peter, dropping his voice till it was
almost a whisper.
Cyril sprang from his seat.
"Who?" he cried. "Speak up, can't you?"
"The--the young lady, my lord, as you took charge of on the train. I was
just passing through the 'all as she came in and so----"
"Here?" exclaimed Cyril. "Why didn't you show her up at once?"
"But, my lord," objected Peter. "If 'er Ladyship should 'ear----"
"Mind your own business, you fool, or----"
But Peter had already scuttled out of the room.
Cyril waited, every nerve strung to the highest tension. Was he again to
be disappointed? Yet if his visitor was really Anita, some new
misfortune must have occurred! It seemed to him ages before the door
again opened and admitted a small, cloaked figure, whose features were
practically concealed by a heavy veil. A glance, however, sufficed to
assure him that it was indeed Anita who stood before him. While Cyril
was struggling to regain his composure, she lifted her veil. The
desperation of her eyes appalled him.
"My God, what is the matter?" cried Cyril, striding forward and seizing
her hands.
She gently disengaged herself.
"Lord Wilmersley--" Cyril jumped as if he had been shot. "Yes," she
continued, "I know who you are. I also know who I am."
"But who told you?" stuttered Cyril.
"You did," she quietly replied.
"I? What do you mean?"
For the first time the ghost of a smile hovered round her lips.
"You called me Anita! You didn't know that, did you?"
"Did I really? What a blundering fool I have been from first to last!"
Cyril exclaimed remorsefully.
"You need not reproach yourself. For some days I had been haunted by
fragmentary visions of the past and before I saw you yesterday, I was
practically certain that you were not my husband. Oh! It was not without
a struggle that I finally made up my mind that you had deceived me. I
told myself again and again that you were not the sort of a man who
would take advantage of an unprotected girl; yet the more I thought
about it, the more convinced I became that my suspicions were correct.
Then I tried to imagine what reason you could have for posing as my
husband, but I could think of none. I was in despair! I didn't know what
to do, whom to turn to; for if I could not trust you, whom could I
trust? When I heard my name, it was as if a dim light suddenly flooded
my brain. I knew who I was. I remembered leaving Geralton, but little by
little I realised with dismay that I was still completely in the dark as
to who you were, why you had come into my life. It seemed to me that if
I could not discover the truth, I should go mad. Then I decided to
appeal to Miss Trevor. She was a woman. She looked kind. She would tell
me! I was somehow convinced that she did not know who I was, but I said
to myself that she would certainly have heard of my disappearance, for I
could not believe that Arthur had allowed me to go out of his life
without moving heaven and earth to find me."
"You did not know----?"
Anita shook her head.
"No; it was Miss Trevor who told me that Arthur was dead--that he had
been murdered." She shuddered convulsively. "You see," she added with
pathetic humility, "there are still so many things I do not remember.
Even now I can hardly believe that I, I of all people, killed my
husband." Great tears coursed slowly down her cheeks.
Cyril ached for pity of her.
"Why take it for granted that you did?" he suggested, partly from a
desire to comfort her, but also because there really lingered a doubt in
his mind.
"Do you suspect any one else?" she cried.
"Not at present, but----"
She threw up her hands with a gesture of despair. "No, of course not. I
must have killed him. But I never meant to--you will believe that, won't
you? Those doctors were right, I must have been insane!"
"I am sure you were not. Arthur only intended to frighten you by sending
for those men."
"But if I was not crazy, why can I remember so little of what took place
on that dreadful night and for some time afterwards?"
"I am told that a severe shock often has that effect," replied Cyril.
"But, oh, how I wish you could answer a few questions! I don't want to
raise your hopes; but there is one thing that has always puzzled me and
till that is explained I for one shall always doubt whether it was you
who killed Arthur."
Again the eager light leaped into her eyes.
"Oh, tell me quickly what--what makes you think that I may not have done
so?"
Cyril contemplated her a moment in silence. He longed to pursue the
topic, but was fearful of the effect it might have on her.
"Yet now that she knows the worst, it may be a relief to her to talk
about it," he said to himself. "Yes, I will risk it," he finally
decided.
"Do you remember that you put a drug in Arthur's coffee?" he asked out
loud.
"Yes, perfectly."
"Then you must have expected to make your escape before he regained
consciousness."
"Yes--yes!"
"Then why did you arm yourself with a pistol?"
"I didn't! I had no pistol."
"But if you shot Arthur, you must have had a pistol."
She stared at Cyril in evident bewilderment.
"I could have sworn I had no pistol."
Cyril tried to control his rising excitement. "You knew, however, that
Arthur owned one?"
"Yes, but I never knew where he kept it."
"You are sure you have not forgotten----"
"No, no!" she interrupted him. "My memory is perfectly clear up to the
time when Arthur seized me and threw me on the floor."
"After that you remember nothing?"
"Oh, yes, I have a vague recollection of a long walk through the
dark--of a train--of you--of policemen. But everything is so confused
that I can be sure of nothing."
Cyril paced the room deep in thought.
"It seems to me incredible," he said at last, "that if you did not even
know where to look for a pistol, you should have found it, to say
nothing of having been able to use it, while you were being beaten into
unconsciousness by that brute."
But Anita only shook her head hopelessly.
"It is extraordinary, and yet I must have done so. For it has been
proved, has it not, that Arthur and I were absolutely alone?"
"Certainly not! How can we be sure that some one was not concealed in
the room or did not climb in through the window or--why, there are a
thousand possibilities which can never be proved!"
"Ah!" she exclaimed, her whole body trembling with eagerness. "I now
remember that I had put all my jewels in a bag, and as that has
disappeared, a burglar--" But as she scanned Cyril's face, she paused.
"You had the bag with you at the nursing home. The jewels are safe," he
said very gently.
"Then," she cried, "it is useless trying to deceive ourselves any
longer--I killed Arthur and must face the consequences."
"What do you mean?"
"I have decided to give myself up."
"You shall not! I will not allow it!" he cried.
"But don't you see that I can't spend the rest of my life in hiding?
Think what it would mean to live in daily, hourly dread of exposure?
Why, death would be preferable to that."
"Oh, you would be acquitted. There is no doubt of that. That is not what
I am afraid of. But the idea of you, Anita, in prison. Why, it is out of
the question. A week of it would kill you."
"And if it did, what of it? What has life to offer me now?"
"Give me time. I will find some way of saving you. I will do
anything--everything."
"There is nothing you can do," she said, laying her hand gently on his
arm. "You have already risked too much. Oh, I can never thank you enough
for all your goodness to me!"
"Don't--don't--I would gladly give my life for you!"
"I know it, Cousin Cyril," she murmured, with downcast eyes. A wave of
colour swept for a moment over her face.
Cyril shivered. With a mighty effort he strove to regain his composure.
Cousin Cyril! Yes, that was what he was to her--that was all he could
ever be to her.
"I know how noble, how unselfish you are," she continued, lifting her
brimming eyes to his. "But your life is not your own. We must both
remember that."
"Both? Anita, is it possible that you----"
"Hush! I have said too much. Let me go," she cried, for Cyril had seized
her hand and was covering it with kisses.
At this moment the door-handle rattled. Cyril and Anita moved hurriedly
away from each other.
"Inspector Griggs is 'ere, my lord."
Peter's face had resumed its usual stolid expression. He appeared not to
notice that his master and the latter's guest were standing in strained
attitudes at opposite ends of the room.
"I can't see him." Cyril motioned Peter impatiently away.
"Why didn't you see the inspector?" exclaimed Anita. "This is the best
time for me to give myself up."
"No, no! I have a plan----"
He was interrupted by the reappearance of Peter.
"The inspector is very sorry, my lord, but he has to see you at once, 'e
says."
"I can't," began Cyril.
"It is no use putting it off," Anita said firmly. "I insist on your
seeing him. If you don't, I shall go down and speak to him myself."
Cyril did not know what to do. He could not argue with her before Peter.
So turning to the latter, he said:
"You can bring him up in ten minutes--not before. You understand?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Anita," implored Cyril, as soon as they were again alone, "I beg you
not to do this thing. If a plan that I have in mind succeeds, you will
be able to leave the country and begin life again under another name."
She hesitated a moment.
"What is this plan?"
He outlined it briefly.
She listened attentively, but when he had finished she shook her head.
"I will not allow you to attempt it. If your fraud were discovered--and
it would surely be discovered--your life would be ruined."
"No--" he began.
"I tell you I will not hear of it. No, I am determined to end this
horrible suspense. Call the inspector."
"I entreat you at all events to wait a little while longer."
"No, no!"
Cyril was almost frantic. The minutes were slipping past. Was there
nothing he could say to turn her from her purpose?
"My wife is here. If she should hear, if she should know--" he began
tentatively.
He was amazed at the effect of his words.
"Why didn't you tell me that she was here?" exclaimed Anita with
flashing eyes. "Of course, I haven't the slightest intention of
involving her in my affairs. I will go at once."
"But you can't leave the house without Griggs seeing you, and he would
certainly guess who you are. Stay in the next room till he is gone, that
is all I ask of you. Here, quick, I hear footsteps on the stairs."
Cyril had hardly time to fling himself into a chair before the inspector
was announced.