orders him abroad."
"Who is he?"
"A gentleman. He was in the Navy on the China station, I think. He's amost amusing companion, full of droll anecdotes, and seems to knoweverybody. Dad says that he's one of the most popular men about London.He has a splendid steam yacht and once or twice he has taken us forcruises. It was in port here for a week at the beginning of the year."
"Where does he live?"
"In Half Moon Street in London."
"Has he a country place?"
"I never heard of it."
Then she was unaware, I saw, that he lived on the Cornish border. Herfather, of course, knew the truth, and kept it concealed from her. Thefact that he came there to hide for months at a time, and that hetravelled about in a steam yacht were sufficient to show that he was oneof the clever and ingenious band who had, during the past ten years,effected certain _coups_ so gigantic that they had startled Europe.
"When I met him how long had he been staying with you at the Manor?"
"Only one day. He came on the previous morning, and he left an hourafter you did. He wished to consult my father about something--somesecurities he contemplates purchasing, I think."
"Was Ella acquainted with him?"
"No. Ella never saw him. He was upstairs in his room, you remember,when we brought her home, and she left in the morning before he was up."
"You don't think that it was he who met her in the park after she leftme?" I suggested.
She looked at me strangely, as though endeavouring to read my innermostthoughts.
"No, I hardly think that. Why should he, of all men, attack a woman whowas a perfect stranger to him?"
"But was Ella a perfect stranger?" I queried. "How do you know that?"
"Of course we can't say so. He might have met her somewhere elsebefore," the dark-eyed girl was forced to admit.
"Do not the circumstances all point to the fact that she fled, fearingto face him?" I said.
"Well, it certainly is a theory--but a very strange one," she answered,her eyes fixed thoughtfully away to the distant horizon. "But what youhave told me is so extraordinary. Ella is engaged to be married in amonth. To whom? You have not told me that."
I was silent for a moment, wondering whether I should tell her. Socomplete were the confidences now between us that I saw I need concealnothing from her. We entertained a mutual sympathy for each other--Ibroken and despairing, and she a woman with the mark of fate upon hercountenance.
"She is to marry Gordon-Wright," I said in a low, hard voice.
"Gordon-Wright!" she gasped, drawing back and staring at meopen-mouthed. "Ella to marry that man! Impossible!"
"The fellow is compelling her to become his wife. He holds her in hispower by some mysterious bond which she fears to break. She is interror of him. Ella--my own Ella--is that man's victim."
"But--but you mustn't allow this, Mr Leaf!" she cried quickly, and fromthe anxious expression in her countenance I saw that my announcement hadstruck her a-heap in amazement. "Ella must never marry him!" she added."But are you sure of this--are you quite sure?"
"She had admitted it to me with her own lips."
"Then she must be warned--she cannot know."
"Know what?"
"Know the facts that are known to me. She is in ignorance, or she wouldnever consent to become that man's wife!"
"She has been entrapped. She admitted as much." My companion made noanswer. Her brows were knit in thought. What I had revealed to her wasboth unexpected and puzzling. She evidently knew Gordon-Wright's truecharacter, though it was hardly likely she would admit it to me.
Yet I wondered, as I had lately very often wondered, whether she wereactually in ignorance of her father's true profession.
"If she has been entrapped, Mr Leaf," she said slowly, "then she mustfind a way in which to extricate herself. We must never allow her tobecome that man's wife."
"He is your father's friend, and yet you hold him in little esteem?" Iremarked.
"What I know is my own affair," was her hard response. "It issufficient for us to say that Ella is yours, and must be yours."
"Ah! yes," I sighed in despair, "if only she could be. Yet I fear thatit is impossible. This fellow for some mysterious reason holds herfuture in his hands. She refuses to reveal anything to me, except thatto break away from him is impossible. Indeed, the real reason of herflying visit to you at Studland was to consult him. She knew he wasvisiting there, and slipped away from her father in order to call uponyou."
"But we had no idea that they were acquainted," Lucie declared.
"After she had gone to bed your father and Gordon-Wright remained up,talking, she crept back downstairs, I believe, and overheard theirconversation."
"She did!" she gasped, her cheeks going pale. "She heard what theysaid! Are you quite sure of this?"
"Yes."
"Then--then she really came to spy upon Gordon-Wright--to spy upon usindeed!"
"Not with any sinister motive," I hastened to assure her. "She isevidently endeavouring to discover something concerning this man whoholds her so utterly powerless in his hands. It is but natural, is itnot? It is only what you or I would do in similar circumstances."
My companion's face had changed. She was pale and anxious, eager tolearn all that I had ascertained.
"She told you this--how she had overheard my father talking to him?"
"No, Gordon-Wright himself charged her with eaves-dropping--and sheadmitted it."
"Ah! Then if this be true, Mr Leaf, she had better marry him."
"Marry him!" I cried. "Why?"
"Because I have a suspicion that she knows something concerning myfather. What it is sorely puzzles me."
"I--I don't quite understand you," I said.
"Well--I thought I had spoken plainly enough," she answered. "You havetold me that she admitted to him that she overheard his conversationwith my father."
"Well, and what if she did?" I asked. "Was the consultation betweenyour father and his friend of such a secret nature?"
She hesitated a moment, then lifting her eyes to mine, said:--
"I believe it was."
"You believe," I echoed. "You must know, if you are prepared tosacrifice Ella to that man!"
"He probably is in possession of some secret of hers," she remarkedslowly.
"And she on her part, it appears, is in possession of some secret ofhis."
"And of my father's."
"What is it she knows?" I asked. "Come, give me some hint of it," Iurged. "A moment ago you were my friend, prepared to assist poor Ellato escape--yet now you declare that they must marry."
"Yes," was her hard response. "I did not know that she had acted thespy in my father's house--that she was in love with Gordon-Wright andhad come to see him while he was under our roof."
"She's not in love with him," I protested. "She denies it.Unfortunately she is his victim."
"She deceived you once, remember. Why do you still trust her?"
"Her deception was one for self-sacrifice--to save her father."
"And my refusal to assist you in saving her from Gordon-Wright is fromthe same motive."
"To save your father?"
"How do I know? I tell you I am puzzled."
"Then the secret is perhaps a guilty one?" I said seriously.
"She must marry this man," was all her response.
"And this from you, Miss Miller--you, who have always posed as herfriend!" I exclaimed reproachfully, for her change of manner hadutterly confounded me. I had relied upon her as my friend.
"I am certainly not her enemy," she hastened to assert. "To see her thewife of Gordon-Wright is my very last desire. Yet it is unfortunatelyimperative for--" and she stopped short, without concluding hersentence.
"For what?"
"For--well--for my peace of mind," she said, though I was sure that shehad intended saying something else.
"You have already told me that th
is fellow is unfitted to be herhusband," I exclaimed. "Surely you, her oldest friend, will never allowher to commit this fatal error--to wreck her own happiness and mine,without lifting a finger to save her. Need I repeat to you what I toldyou at the riverside at Studland, with what a fierce passion I adoreher, how that she is mine--my very life?"
"I know," my companion said, in a voice slightly more sympathetic. "Iadmit that she ought to marry you--that she is