ago she had by accident seen
Ravengar commit a crime. She would not tell me what crime; she would
give me no particulars. Still, I gathered that, if not actually murder,
it was at least homicide. After that Ravengar had pestered her to marry
him--had even said that he would be content with a purely formal
marriage; had offered her enormous sums to agree to his proposal; and
had been constantly repulsed by her. She admitted to me that he had
appeared to be violently in love with her, but that his motive in
wanting marriage was to prevent her from giving evidence against him. I
asked her why she had not communicated with the police long since, and
she replied that nothing would induce her to do that.

'But,' I said, 'he will do his best to kill you.'

She said: 'I know it.'

And she said it so solemnly that I became extremely frightened. I knew
Ravengar, and I had marked the tone of his final words; and the more I
pondered the more profoundly I was imbued with this one idea: 'The life
of my future wife is not safe. Nothing can make it safe.'

I urged her to communicate with the police. She refused absolutely.

'Then one day you will be killed,' I said.

She gazed at me, and said: 'Can't you hit on some plan to keep me safe
for a year?'

I demanded: 'Why a year?'

I thought she was thinking of my short shrift.

She said: 'Because in a year Mr. Ravengar will probably have--passed
away.'

Not another word of explanation would she add.

'Yes,' I said; 'I can hit on a plan.'

And, as a matter of fact, a scheme had suddenly flashed into my head.

She asked me what the scheme was. And I murmured that it began with our
marriage on the following day. I had in my possession a license which
would enable us to go through the ceremony at once.

'Trust me,' I said. 'You have trusted me enough to agree to marry me.
Trust me in everything.'

I did not venture to tell her just then what my scheme was.

She went to her lodging that night in my brougham. After she had gone I
found poor old Mrs. Dant drugged in the kitchen. On the next morning
Camilla and I were married at a registry office. She objected to the
registry-office at first, but in the end she agreed, on the condition
that I got her a spray of orange-blossom to wear at her breast. It's no
business of yours, Polycarp, but I may tell you that this feminine
trait, this almost childish weakness, in a woman of so superb and
powerful a character, simply enchanted me