eauty is too marked for one to be
mistaken--especially a friend, like myself."

"Then you are quite certain it was she--eh, Jack?"

My tall friend stretched his long legs out on the carpet, and
replied--

"Well, I'd have bet a hundred to a penny that it was she. She wasn't
at home with you on that day, was she?"

I was compelled to make a negative reply.

"Then I'm certain I saw her, old man," he declared, as he rose and
tossed his cigarette-end away.

It was upon my tongue to ask him what he had known of her, but I
refrained. She was my wife, and to ask such a question would only
expose to him my suspicions and misgivings.

So presently he went, and I was left there wretched in my loneliness
and completely mystified. The house seemed full of grim shadows now
that she, the sun of my life, had gone out of it. Old Browning moved
about silent as a ghost, watching me, I knew, and wondering.

So Sylvia had been seen at Banbury. According to Jack, she was dressed
as though travelling; therefore it seemed apparent that she had hidden
in that quiet little town until compelled to flee owing to police
inquiries. Her dress, as described by Jack, was different to any I
had ever seen her wear; hence it seemed as though she had disguised
herself as much as was possible. Her companionship with the elder
woman was also somewhat strange.

My only fear was that the police might recognize her. While she
remained in one place, she would, no doubt, be safe from detection.
But if she commenced to travel, then most certainly the police would
arrest her.

Fortunately they were not in possession of her photograph, yet all
along I remained in fear that the manager of the Coliseum might make a
statement, and this would again connect me with the gang.

Yes, I suppose the reader will dub me a fool to have married Sylvia.
Well, he or she may do so. My only plea in extenuation is that I loved
her dearly and devotedly. My love might have been misplaced, of
course, yet I still felt that, in face of all the black circumstances,
she was nevertheless true to those promises made before the altar. I
was hers--and she was mine.

Even then, with the papers raising a hue-and-cry after her, as well as
what I had discovered regarding her elopement, I steadfastly refused
to believe in her guilt. Those well-remembered words of affection
which had fallen from her lips from time to time I knew had been
genuine and the truth.

That same night I read