blank dismay.

But at that instant I saw that the blackness of unconsciousness had
fallen upon my love even as I held her in my embrace.

And for me, too, alas! the sun of life had ceased to shine, and the world
was dead.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE FUGITIVE'S SECRET.

Tenderly I placed my love upon the couch, and then rang the bell.

In answer to my summons the young Italian man-servant appeared.

"Send Mallock here quickly," I said. "Miss Shand is not well. But say
nothing of this to your mistress, or to the other servants. You
understand, Egisto?"

"Cer-tainly, sare," replied the smart young Tuscan, and a few moments
later the door re-opened to admit the thin-faced maid in black, wearing
her muslin apron and gold-rimmed glasses.

She dashed across to the couch in an instant, and bent, looking into the
white, immobile face of my well-beloved.

"I fear your mistress has fainted, Mallock, so I thought it best to call
you. I have, unfortunately, imparted to her some news which has upset
her. Will you please see after her?"

"Of course, sir. I'll go and get some smelling salts and some water."

And quickly the girl disappeared. Then, when she had gone, I stood
before the inanimate form of the woman I loved so well, and wondered what
could be the real, actual truth.

Her admission had taken me aback. She had confessed to visiting my
friend, but had alleged that he had compelled her. Was she actually
beneath some mysterious thraldom--was she held in some secret bondage by
the man I had trusted and who was my best friend?

The very suspicion of it filled me with a fierce irresponsible anger, and
I clenched my fists.

Ah! I would find him and face him. I would clutch his throat and force
the truth from his lips.

And if he had betrayed me--if he had exercised any evil influence over
Phrida--then, by heaven! I would take his life!

Mallock bustled in the next moment, and sinking upon her knees began to
apply restoratives.

"Tell your mistress that I will return after luncheon, if she will see
me," I said.

"Yes, sir."

"And--and tell her, Mallock, to remain calm until I see her. Will you?"

"Yes, sir," answered the maid, and then I went out into the hall,
struggled into my overcoat, and left the house.

Out in Cromwell Road the scene, grey, dull and dismal, was, alas! in
accord with my own feelings.

The blow I had feared had fallen. The terrible suspicion I had held from
that moment when, upon