Henfrey
is a fine manly fellow, Miss Ranscomb. That is why I have done my level
best in his interest."

"But why should you?" she asked. "You are, after all, a stranger."

"True. But you will know the truth some day. Meanwhile, leave matters as
they are. Do not prejudge him, even if the police are convinced of
his guilt. Could you be at King's Cross station at ten o'clock on the
morning of Tuesday week? If so, I will meet you there."

"Yes," she replied. "But where are we going?"

"At present I have no idea. When one is escaping from the police one's
movements have to be ruled by circumstances from hour to hour. I will do
my best on that day to arrange a meeting between you," he added.

She thanked him very sincerely. He was still a mystery, but his face and
his whole bearing attracted her. He was her friend. She recollected
his words amid that gay revelry at Nice--words of encouragement and
sympathy. And he had travelled there, far north into Perthshire, in
order to carry the letter which she had thrust into her pocket, yet
still holding it in her clenched hand.

"I do wish you would tell me the motive of your extreme kindness towards
us both," Dorise urged. "I can't make it out at all. I am bewildered."

"Well--so am I, Miss Ranscomb," replied the tall, elegant man who spoke
with such refinement, and was so shrewd and alert. "There are certain
facts--facts of which I have no knowledge. The affair at the Villa
Amette is still, to me, a most profound mystery."

"Why did Hugh go there at all? That is what I fail to understand," she
declared.

"Don't wonder any longer. He had, I know, an urgent and distinct motive
to call that night."

"But the woman! I hear she is a notorious adventuress."

"And the adventuress, Miss Ranscomb, often has, deep in her soul, the
heart of a pure woman," he said. "One must never judge by appearance or
gossip. What people may think is the curse of many of our lives. I hope
you do not misjudge Mr. Henfrey."

"I do not. But I am anxious to hear his explanation."

"You shall--and before long, too," he replied. "But I want you, if you
will, to answer a question. I do not put it from mere idle curiosity,
but it very closely concerns you both. Have you ever heard him speak of
a girl named Louise Lambert?"

"Louise Lambert? Why, yes! He introduced her to me once. She is, I
understand, the adopted daughter of a man named Benton, an intimate
friend of old Mr. Henfrey."

"Has he ever