e laughed in reply. "And yet the truth is a hard and
bitter one."

"Remain firm and determined to be mistress of your own actions," he
urged, "and in the meantime I will cultivate the doctor's acquaintance
and endeavour to investigate the cause of this remarkable influence of
his."

Why did Doctor Weirmarsh possess such power over Sir Hugh? he wondered.
Could it be that this man was actually in possession of the truth? Was he
aware of that same terrible and hideous secret of which he himself was
aware--a secret which, if exposed, would convulse the whole country, so
shameful and scandalous was it!

He saw how pale and agitated Enid was. She had in her frantic anxiety
sought his aid. Only a few days ago they had parted; yet now, in the
moment of her fear and apprehension, she had recalled him to her side to
seek his advice and protection.

She had not told him of that mysterious warning Weirmarsh had given her
concerning him, or of his accurate knowledge of their acquaintanceship.
She had purposely refrained from telling him this lest her words should
unduly prejudice him. She had warned Walter that the doctor was his
enemy--this, surely, was sufficient!

"Try and discover, if you can, the reason of the doctor's power over my
father, and why he is for ever directing his actions," urged the girl.
"For myself I care little; it is for Sir Hugh's sake that I am trying to
break the bonds, if possible."

"You have no suspicion of the reason?" he repeated, looking seriously
into her face. "You do not think that he holds some secret of your
stepfather's? Undue influence can frequently be traced to such a source."

She shook her head in the negative, a blank look in her great, dark eyes.

"No," she replied, "it is all a mystery--one which I beg of you, Walter,
to solve, and"--she faltered in a strange voice--"and to save me!"

He pressed her hand and gave her his promise. Then for a second she
raised her full red lips to his, and together they passed back into the
drawing-room, where their re-entry in company did not escape the sharp
eyes of the lonely doctor of Pimlico.

CHAPTER VI

BENEATH THE ELASTIC BAND

WALTER FETHERSTON strolled back that night to the dingy chambers he
rented in Holles Street, off Oxford Street, as a _pied-a-terre_ when in
London. He was full of apprehension, full of curiosity, as to who this
Doctor Weirmarsh could be.

He entered his darkling, shabby old third-floor room and threw