of your finger-prints, as
being those of a person who had entered the flat on that night, they have
no knowledge of your identity, therefore, dear, have no fear."

"Ah! but I am in peril!" she cried, and I felt her shudder beneath my
touch. "That woman--ah!--she may tell the police!"

"What woman?"

"Mrs. Petre, the woman who has already betrayed me to you."

"Then she knows--she knows your secret?" I gasped.

She bent her head slowly in the affirmative.

I saw in her eyes a look of terror and despair, such as I had never
before seen in the eyes of any person before--a haunted, agonised
expression that caused my heart to go out in sympathy for her--for even
though she might be guilty--guilty of that crime of vengeance, yet, after
all, she was mine and she possessed my heart.

"Is there no way of closing that woman's lips?" I asked very slowly.

She was silent, for, apparently, the suggestion had not before occurred
to her. Of a sudden, she looked up into my face earnestly, and asked:

"Tell me, Teddy. Will you promise me--promise not to prejudge me?"

"I do not prejudge you at all, dearest," I declared with a smile. "My
annoyance is due to your refusal to reveal to me anything concerning the
man who has falsely posed as my friend."

"I would tell you all, dearest," she assured me, "but it is impossible.
If I spoke I should only further arouse your suspicions, for you would
never believe that I spoke the truth."

"Then you prefer that I should remain in ignorance, and by doing so your
own peril becomes increased!" I remarked, rather harshly.

"Alas! my silence is imperative," was all she would reply.

Again and again I pressed her to tell me the reason of the evil influence
held over her by the man who was now a fugitive, but with the greatest
ingenuity she evaded my questions, afterwards declaring that all my
inquiries were futile. The secret was hers.

"And so you intend to shield this man, Phrida," I remarked at last, in
bitter reproach.

"I am not silent for his sake!" my love cried, starting up in quick
resentment. "I hate him too much. No, I refuse to reveal the truth
because I am compelled."

"But supposing you were compelled to clear yourself in a criminal court,"
I said. "Supposing that this woman went to the police! What then? You
would be compelled to speak the truth."

"No. I--I'd rather kill myself!" she declared, in frantic despair.
"Indeed, that is what I intend to do--now that I know