ant I was chilled with doubt of last night's impression,
for her face was so pale and anxious that she was more like Rosemary
than had been the red-rose vision at the theatre. But she was genuinely
surprised at sight of me.

"Why!" she exclaimed. "You are the lovely lady who sat next us at the
play!"

"Does my name suggest nothing to you?" I asked.

"Nothing," she echoed.

"Then we'll sit down, and I'll tell you a story," I suggested.

I began with the _Aquitania_: the man in the cushioned deck-chair, going
home condemned to die; the beautiful girl who appeared on the second day
out; the recognition. I mentioned no names. When I said, however, that
years ago the two had been engaged, a sudden light flashed into my
visitor's eyes. She would have interrupted, but I begged her to let me
go on; and she sat silent while I told the whole story. Then, before she
had time to speak, I said: "There's just _one_ thing I know! You are not
the woman who came to England and married Ralston Murray. If you have a
heart in your breast, you'll tell me where to find that woman. He will
die unless she goes back to him."

Her lips parted, but she pressed them tightly together again. I saw her
muscles stiffen in sympathy with some resolve.

"The woman, whoever she was, must have personated me for a reason of her
own," she answered. "It's as deep a mystery to me as to you."

I looked her in the eyes. "That's not true. Mrs. Brandreth," I flung at
her, brutally. "In spite of what I've said, you're afraid of me. I give
you my most sacred word that you shall be protected if you will help, as
you alone can, to save Ralston Murray. It is only if you _refuse_ your
help that you may suffer. In that case, my husband and I will fight for
our friend. We won't consider you at all. Now that we have a strong clue
to this seeming mystery, and it is already close to our hands,
everything that you have done or have not done will soon come out."

The beautiful woman broke down and began to cry. "What I did I had a
right to do!" she sobbed. "There was no harm! It was as much for the
sake of my husband's future happiness as my own, but if he finds out
he'll never love or trust me again. Men are so cruel!"

"Tell me who went to England in your place, when you pretended to sail,
and he sha'n't find out. Only ourselves and Ralston Murray need ever
know," I urged.

"It was--my twin sister," she gasped, "my sister Mary-Rose Hillier, who
sailed on the _Aq