session of the same knowledge as myself, you too,
would, I feel sure, deem it injudicious."

"But what is this secret knowledge?" I demanded. "I have narrowly
escaped being foully done to death. I have been robbed, and I feel
that it is but right that I should now know the truth."

"Not from me, Mr. Biddulph," he answered. "Have I not already told you
the reason why no word of the actual facts may pass my lips?"

"I cannot see why you should persist in thus mystifying me as to the
sinister motive of that pair of assassins. If they wished to rob me,
they could have done so without seeking to take my life by those
horrible means."

"What means did they employ?" he asked.

Briefly and vividly I explained their methods, as he sat silent,
listening to me to the end. He evinced neither horror nor surprise.
Perhaps he knew their mode of procedure only too well.

"I warned you," was all he vouchsafed. "Sylvia warned you also."

"It is over--of the past, Mr. Shuttleworth," I said, rising from my
chair. "I feel confident that Sylvia, though she possessed knowledge
of what was intended, had no hand whatever in it. Indeed, so
confident am I of her loyalty to me, that to-day--yes, let me confess
it to you--for I know you are my friend as well as hers, to-day,
here--only an hour ago, I asked Sylvia to become my wife."

"Your wife!" he gasped, starting to his feet, his countenance pale and
drawn.

"Yes, my wife."

"And what was her answer?" he asked dryly, in a changed tone.

"She has consented."

"Mr. Biddulph," he said very gravely, looking straight into my face,
"this must never be! Have I not already told you the ghastly
truth?--that there is a secret--an unmentionable secret----"

"A secret concerning her!" I cried. "What is it? Come, Mr.
Shuttleworth, you shall tell me, I demand to know!"

"I can only repeat that between you and Sylvia Pennington there still
lies the open gulf--and that gulf is, indeed, the grave. In your
ignorance of the strange but actual facts you do not realize your own
dread peril, or you would never ask her to become your wife. Abandon
all thought of her, I beg of you," he urged earnestly. "Take this
advice of mine, for one day you will assuredly thank me for my
counsel."

"I love her with all the strength of my being, and for me that is
sufficient," I declared.

"Ah!" he cried in despair as he paced the room. "To think of the irony
of it all! That you should actually woo her--of all w