what?"
"Concerning your wife."
"You would cast a slur upon her good name?" I cried excitedly, my angerrising.
"Not at all," was his calm, polite response, his lips parted in apleasant smile. "You asked me to assist you, and I was about to giveyou advice--that is, provided that you have told me the truth."
"About what?"
"About Miss Ethelwynn--that she still lives."
"Of that there is no doubt," I said.
"And if you found your signora alive and well, you would undertake tomake no further inquiry?" he repeated, with undue eagerness.
"Ah! You wish to tie me down to that?" I cried. "You do so becauseyou and your friends are in fear. You realise your own peril--eh?"
"No," declared the man at my side; "you still entirely misunderstand me.You are an Englishman, and you mistrust me merely because I am aforeigner. It is a prejudice all you English have, more or less."
"I entertain no prejudice," I declared hotly. "But to tell you thetruth, Antonio, I am tired of all this mystery, and now that Kirk andhis friends have alienated me from my wife, I intend to take action."
"In what manner?" he asked calmly.
"I shall go to the Questore here, in Rome, and tell the truth. I happento know him personally."
"And you will mention my name!" he gasped, well knowing probably thedrastic measures adopted by the police of his own country.
"I shall not be able to avoid mentioning it," I responded, with a smile.
"_Bene_!" he answered, in a hard, hoarse voice. "And if you did--well,signore, I can promise that you would never again see your signoraalive. Go to the Questore now! Tell him all you know! Apply for myarrest! And then wait the disaster that must fall upon you, and uponyour missing wife. An unseen hand struck Professor Greer--an unseenhand will most assuredly strike you, as swiftly, as unerringly." Andthen facing me defiantly, a grin upon his sinister face, the fellowadded: "Silence, signore, is your only guarantee of safety--I assureyou!"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
ETHELWYNN SPEAKS.
I looked into the closely-set, crafty eyes of the old Italian, and sawboth determination and desperation.
Was he the man who killed Professor Greer?
"I require no guarantee of safety from you, Antonio," I answeredquickly. "I am now solely in search of my wife. Where is she?"
"Caro signore, I have no idea," was the old fellow's bland reply, as heexhibited his palms. "I have not the pleasure of the signora'sacquaintance."
"But you know where Kirk is hiding, and she is with him, assisting himin discovering my whereabouts, I believe!" I cried.
"That the Signor Kirk crossed from Dover to Calais I am well aware, butof his movements afterwards I assure you I am in complete ignorance."
What could I do further?
He professed to be equally mystified with myself regarding my wife'sdisappearance, declaring his readiness and anxiety to assist me if itwere possible.
Then, in the falling twilight, we slowly descended the road together, hegiving me his address in the Via Tordinona, a side street close to theBridge of Sant' Angelo, which I noted on my shirt-cuff. At the Portodel Popolo we parted, and I returned to the hotel to dine with Gwen,whom I found awaiting me in feverish expectation. I told her briefly ofmy meeting with a man I knew, but explained nothing of his connectionwith the house in Sussex Place, nor of the secret tragedy that had beenenacted.
Next day was the fifth of February, the day of Santa Agata. How well Irecollect it, for at noon we bade farewell to the Eternal City, and asthe train roared on across those wide, dreary marshes of the Maremma onour journey northward, I sat in the corner of the compartment and madeup my mind to go direct and seek Ethelwynn, the girl whom I had seendead, and who was yet alive.
I recalled all Antonio's ominous statements; how that he had expressed adoubt whether the professor's assassin would ever be brought to justice,and how he had threatened that, if I betrayed the truth to the police, Ishould never again meet Mabel alive. Did not those words of hisconclusively prove complicity in the affair? Why did he command mysilence at peril of my dear wife's life. He had lied when he told methat he was ignorant of her whereabouts; but if he were the actualassassin, or even one of the accomplices, I saw that I could hope for noassistance from him. It was that conclusion which caused me to resolveto invoke the aid of the girl whom I had seen lying upon the floor, coldand lifeless.
From Rome to Broadstairs is a far cry, but two days later we alighted atVictoria, and on the morning of the third day I found myself at the doorof a pretty newly-built red-roofed house standing in its own ground highupon the cliffs between the Grand Hotel at Broadstairs and Dumpton Gap.
A neat maid opened the door, and, on inquiring for Miss Greer, I wasshown across a square, ample hall to a small cosy sitting-roomoverlooking the sea, facing direct upon the treacherous Goodwins.
The maid who took my card returned to say that her mistress would bewith me in a few moments. And then I stood at the window, gazing alongat the quaint old-world harbour of Broadstairs, with "Bleak House"standing high beyond, full of keen anxiety as to the result of theinterview.
She came at last, a tall, slim figure, in a dark stuff skirt and creamsilk blouse, relieved by a touch of colour at the throat, a sweet-faced,fair-haired, delicate girl, whose large blue eyes wore a look of wonderat the visit of a stranger. She whom I had seen a corpse was certainlyalive, and living here in the flesh!
"I must apologise for this intrusion, Miss Greer," I began, for want ofsomething better to say, "but I may introduce myself as an acquaintanceof Mr. Langton--an acquaintance under somewhat romantic and curiouscircumstances."
"Mr. Langton has already told me how he met you--when he believed therewere burglars in our house in Sussex Place," she said, with abrightening smile.
"Yes," I replied. "I--well, I was put there on guard, but Mr. Langton'ssuspicions fortunately proved to be unfounded."
"Ah!" she said, with just the slightest suspicion of a sigh. "I'm gladof that--very glad!"
"The reason of my visit, Miss Greer, is," I explained after a briefpause, "to ask you whether you are aware of the whereabouts of myfriend, your father?" And I fixed my eyes straight upon hers.
"My father went to Scotland," she replied, without wavering. "Atpresent he's in Germany. The last I heard of him was three days ago,when he was in Strassburg."
"He wrote to you?" I gasped, staring at her in amazement that thisready lie should be upon her lips.
She noted my surprise, and said:
"Yes, why shouldn't he?"
What reply could I give? Could I tell her that the Professor, herfather, had been cruelly done to death, and his body cremated in his ownexperimental furnace? Had I not given my word of honour to that weirdwill-o'-the-wisp, Kershaw Kirk, that I would preserve silence? Besides,my only thought was for my own dear wife, whose face now rose everbefore me.
"Well," I stammered. "I--well--I believed that you were unaware of hiswhereabouts, Miss Greer. At least, I understood so from your father'sbutler, Antonio."
She smiled, regarding me quite calmly. She was either in ignorance ofwhat had occurred, or else she was a most perfect actress.
Yet how could she feign ignorance? Had not Kirk told me that she hadthrown herself upon her knees before her father's body, vowing a fierce,bitter vengeance upon his assassin? Perhaps Kirk had lied, of course,yet I recollected that the discovery had been made while the dead man'sdaughter was in the house, and that after the astounding incident shehad removed with Morgan, her maid, to Lady Mellor's, while the otherservants--unaware of what had occurred--had either been sent away downto Broadstairs, or else discharged. In secret, this handsome girlbefore me--the girl with that perfect dimpled face and innocent blueeyes--had returned, and we had found her lying apparently dead in thedining-room.
Ethelwynn's present attitude of pretended ignorance of her father's fatestruck me as both amazing and culpable.
> "You say that the Professor was in Strassburg?" I said. "Is he stillthere?"
"As far as I know," she replied, twisting her rings nervously around herthin white finger.
"Could I telegraph to him?" I ventured to suggest.
"Certainly, if you have business with him," she responded. "I'll go andget the address." And she swiftly left the room, leaving on the air asweet breath of violets, a bunch of which she wore in her belt.
A few minutes later she returned with a letter in her hand.
"His address is Kronenburger Strasse, number fifteen," she exclaimed."Do you know Strassburg? It's just at the
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