has been here."

"Go on," she begged.

"He laid a trap for us, and we fell into it like the veriest simpletons.
He let Beatrice think that he had gone to Chicago. Of course, he did
nothing of the sort. He turned her loose to come to me, and he had us
watched. He knew that we spent last evening together as old friends. She
was here in my rooms this morning when he arrived."

"Oh, Philip, Philip!" she murmured. "Well, what does he suspect?"

"The truth! He accused me to my face of being Philip Romilly. Beatrice
did her best but, you see, the position was a little absurd. She denied
strenuously that she had ever seen me before, that I was anything but a
stranger to her. In the face of last evening, and his finding her here
this morning, it didn't sound convincing."

"What is Dane going to do?"

"Heaven knows! It isn't his affair, really. If there were any charge
against me--well, you see, there'd have to be an extradition order. I
should think he will probably lay the facts before Scotland Yard and let
them do what they choose."

She made him sit down and drew a low chair herself to his side. She held
his hand in hers.

"Philip," she said soothingly, "they can't possibly prove anything."

"They can prove," he pointed out, "that I was in Detton Magna that
afternoon. I don't think any one except Beatrice saw me start along the
canal path, but they can prove that I knew all about Douglas Romilly's
disappearance, because I travelled to America under his name and with his
ticket, and deliberately personated him."

"They can prove all that," she agreed, "but they can't prove the crime
itself. Beatrice is the only person who could do that."

"She proposes to marry me," he announced grimly. "That would prevent her
giving evidence at all."

Elizabeth suddenly threw her arms around his neck and held her cheek to
his.

"She shan't marry you!" she declared. "I want you myself!"

"Elizabeth!"

"Yes, I have made up my mind, Philip. It is no use. The other things are
fascinating and splendid in their way, but they don't count, they don't
last. They're tinsel, dear, and I don't want tinsel--I want the gold.
We'll face this bravely, wherever it leads, however far, however deep
down, and then we'll start again."

"You know what this means, Elizabeth?" he faltered. "That man Power--"

She brushed the thought away.

"I know. He'll close the theatre. He'll do all he can to harm us. That
doesn't matter. The play is ours.