insistence. She felt as if his eyes
pierced her, compelling her reply.

"A horrible old native--a positive nightmare of a man--whom I shall
always regard as in some way the cause of my husband's death."

In the pause that followed her words, Monck's hand left hers. He lay
still looking at her, but with that steely intentness that told her
nothing. She could not have said whether he were vitally interested in
the matter or not when he spoke again.

"You think that he was murdered then?"

A sharp shudder went through her. "I am very nearly convinced of it,"
she said. "But I shall never know for certain now."

"And you imagine that the murderer can have followed you here?" he
pursued.

"No! Oh no!" Hastily she made answer. "It is ridiculous of course. He
would never be such a fool as to do that. It was only my imagination. I
saw the figure at the window and was reminded of him."

"Are you sure the figure at the window was not imagination too?" said
Monck. "Forgive my asking! Such things have happened."

"Oh, I know," Stella said. "It is a question I have been asking myself
ever since. But, you know--" she smiled faintly--"I had no fever that
night. Besides, I fancy you saw him too."

His smile met hers. "I saw many things that night as they were not. And
you also were overwrought and very tired. Perhaps you had had an
exciting supper!"

She saw that he meant to turn the subject away from her husband's death,
and a little thrill of gratitude went through her. He had seen how
reluctant she was to speak of it. She followed his lead with relief.

"Perhaps--perhaps," she said. "We will say so anyhow. And now, do you
know, I think you had better have your tea and rest. You have done a lot
of talking, and you will be getting feverish again if I let you go on. I
will send Peter in with it."

He raised one eyebrow with a wry expression. "Must it be Peter?" he
said.

She relented. "I will bring it myself if you will promise not to talk."

"Ah!" he said. "And if I promise that--will you promise me one thing
too?"

She paused. "What is that?"

His eyes met hers, direct but baffling. "Not. to run away from me," he
said.

The quick blood mounted again in her face. She stood silent.

He lifted an urgent hand. "Stella, in heaven's name, don't be afraid of
me!"

She laid her hand again in his. She could not do otherwise. She wanted
to beg him to say nothing further, to let her go in peace. But no words
would come.