But he could not make her answer him. His hand was no longer on her arm,
and with a desperate effort of will, she fled with sudden swiftness from
him towards the house. He stood and watched her, with a look of sullen
anger darkening his face. "She is not to be trusted," he muttered to
himself. "I must finish my work to-night."

CHAPTER L.

MRS. LUTTRELL'S ROOM.

Kitty made her way to her own room, and was not surprised to find that
in a few moments Hugo followed her thither. She was sitting in a low
chair, striving to command her agitated thoughts, and school herself
into some semblance of tranquility, when he entered. She fully expected
that he would try again to force from her the history of her interview
with Vivian, but he did nothing of the kind. He threw himself into a
chair opposite to her, and looked at her in silence, while she tried her
best not to see his face at all. Those long, lustrous eyes, that low
brow and perfectly-modelled mouth and chin, had grown hideous in her
sight.

But when he spoke he took her completely by surprise.

"You had better begin to pack up your things," he said. "We shall go to
the South of France either this week or next."

"And leave Mrs. Luttrell?" breathed Kitty.

His lips stretched themselves into something meant for a smile, but it
was a very joyless smile.

"And leave Mrs. Luttrell," he repeated.

"But, Hugo, what will people say?"

"They won't find fault," he answered. "The matter will be simple enough
when the time comes. Pack your boxes, and leave the rest to me."

"She is much better, certainly," hesitated Kitty, "but I do not like
leaving her to servants."

"She is no better," said Hugo, rising, and turning a malevolent look
upon her. "She is worse. Don't let me hear you say again that she is
better. She is dying."

With these words he left the room. Kitty leaned back in her chair, for
she was seized with a fit of trembling that made her unable to rise or
speak. Something in the tone of Hugo's speech had frightened her. She
was unreasonably suspicious, perhaps, but she had developed a great fear
of Hugo's evil designs. He had shown her plainly enough that he had no
principle, no conscience, no sense of shame. And she feared for Mrs.
Luttrell.

Her fears did not go very far. She thought that Hugo was capable of
sending away the nurse, or of depriving Mrs. Luttrell of care and
comfort to such an extent as to shorten her life. She could not susp