The Mysterious Mr. Miller

by William Le Queux

of my grief I have met you only to find that youstill love me," she cried hoarsely, in a voice broken by emotion.

  I held her trembling hand, and again kissed her cold, hard lips.

  But she drew herself from me firmly, saying in a low, broken voice, fullof pathos:--

  "No, Godfrey. Let us say good-night here. Let both of us go our ownway, as we have done before; both of us, however, now confident in eachother's love, even though our lives lie far apart. Remember me only asan unhappy woman who, through no fault of her own, is prevented frombecoming your wife. Think of me still as your Ella of the old sweetdays, and I will remember you, my Godfrey--the--the man I love. I--"

  But she could utter no further word, for she burst into a flood ofbitter tears.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  INTRODUCES MR GORDON-WRIGHT.

  Next morning, after a night of dark reflections, spent at the dormerwindow of the village inn, I called at the Manor House as early as theconvenances would permit.

  Lucie, cool in a white blouse and pique skirt, met me in the hall, and,to my surprise, told me that Ella had already departed. At seveno'clock she asked that she might be driven back to Swanage to rejoin herfather, as they were leaving early on the motor-car.

  She was as surprised as I myself was at this sudden decision to leave,for she expected that she would remain there for another day at least,now that we had again met.

  "Didn't she tell you that she was leaving early?" Lucie asked, lookingme straight in the face.

  "No. I certainly expected to find her here," I said, as she led me intothe old-fashioned morning-room sweet with the odour of pot-pourri in thebig Oriental punch-bowls.

  I was utterly taken aback by her announcement.

  When I had parted from my love she had declared that to meet again wasuseless, but I had assured her that in the morning I would call--thatnow we had met I would not again leave her. Had she not confessed herlove for me? Did we not love each other with a fond, mad passion? Andyet my darling had, it appeared, fallen beneath the influence of somenameless fellow, who was, no doubt, a scoundrel and an adventurer!Should I calmly stand by and allow her to ruin her life and mine? No.A thousand times, no. And as I stood there in silence in thelow-ceilinged old room with Lucie Miller at my side, I made a firm andfurious resolve that my Ella should not again escape me. Our love,however, seemed ill-fated. The remembrance of that night in Bayswaterever arose within my memory. Again how curious it was, that through thedead I had found the living. By the death of Nardini I had rediscoveredmy lost love.

  I wondered whether I should confide in Lucie and explain what my lovehad told me, or whether it was best to allow her, at least for thepresent, to remain in ignorance? I decided, after due reflection, uponthe latter course.

  "I, of course, thought that she had wished you good-bye, and made anappointment for another meeting," Lucie said. "In fact, both my fatherand myself were greatly surprised when she came and asked that the horsemight be put to. And yet--" and without finishing her sentence, shelooked mysteriously into my face.

  "And yet what?" I asked.

  For a few moments she was silent, hesitating to explain. I saw by herface that something had puzzled her. We had so quickly become friends,and our friendship had been cemented by our mutual acquaintanceship withElla Murray, that we had found ourselves speaking perfectly frankly asthough we had known each other for years.

  "Well--will you pardon me for asking you a rather impertinent question,Mr Leaf?" she said.

  "Why, certainly."

  "You'll perhaps think me curiously inquisitive, but how long were youwith Ella in the avenue after you left last night?"

  "About half an hour."

  "Not more?"

  "No. I can fix it, because I noted the time by that long grandfatherclock in the hall as we went out, and I looked at my watch when I gotback to the inn. I was three-quarters of an hour in getting back toStudland."

  "That's rather strange," she remarked, with a distinct note of suspicionin her voice.

  "Why?"

  "Well--because Ella was gone nearly two hours and a half. My fatherwent to bed, and I remained up for her. Wasn't she with you?"

  "Certainly not," was my prompt answer, much surprised at her statement.

  "Then something must have occurred after she left you," my companionsaid.

  "After she left me! What do you mean?"

  "A very long time elapsed before her return," Lucie remarked. "She mayhave been alone--but I think not."

  "Who was with her?"

  "How can we tell?"

  "But what causes you to think that Ella was not alone?"

  "By her strange manner when she returned. She was pale and breathless,as though she had been hurrying, and although she had pinned it up Inoticed that the sleeve of her blouse was torn, and that her wrist boredark marks as though she had had a desperate struggle with some one."

  "Was she attacked by some tramp or other, I wonder?" I cried, amazed.

  "She refused to tell me anything save that she was rather upset. Sheseemed in great fear that my father should have knowledge of the affair,and made me faithfully promise not to tell him. Her hair was awry, andsome of the lace at the throat was torn as though some person had seizedher and tried to strangle her. Indeed, while speaking to me she placedher hand at her throat, as if it pained her. Alarmed at her appearance,I inquired what was the matter, but she would only tell me vaguely thatshe was not very well. I at once jumped to the conclusion that you hadquarrelled."

  "We certainly had no quarrel, Miss Miller," I quickly reassured her.

  "Then it is evident that she was attacked by some one! Yet it iscurious that, intimate friends that we are, she would tell me nothing ofthe incident."

  "She wished to shield her assailant, perhaps," I remarked, much puzzled.

  "It certainly seems so. Seeing her so pale, and believing her about tofaint, I took her to the dining-room and gave her some brandy. Shesipped it, and a moment afterwards burst into tears. I sat with her fornearly half an hour trying to learn the mystery of her unhappiness. Iasked her quite frankly if she had quarrelled with you, but she repliedin the negative. Under the light, as she sat in the dining-room, Iremarked the great change in her. Her countenance was pale as death,her lips white, and her eyes bore a look of terror in them. She wasundoubtedly in great fear. But of what, I am unable to tell."

  "Your surmise is, no doubt, correct. She met some one unexpectedly--some one who attacked her. I wonder who it is?"

  "She was evidently followed here this evening, and was, perhaps, seenwalking with you. Your conversation, as you walked down to the lodge,might have been overheard."

  "Probably. But surely, Miss Miller, the incidents of last night werevery remarkable ones. I followed you and I met my love. And then, justat the moment of my re-found happiness, she has gone again without aword. Indeed, when I reflect, the incidents of last night hardly seemreal. I find myself doubting whether it was not all a dream, and wouldreally hesitate to believe in its reality if you, too, had not beenpresent--if you, too, had not seen and spoken with her."

  "Yes, it is curious--very curious. I was quite as startled by hersudden appearance as you were. It is inexplicable. I, too, believedshe was dead. I heard so from half a dozen people, and I can't helpthinking, Mr Leaf, that there was some deep ulterior motive inspreading such a report concerning her."

  "She's a mystery," I declared; "a complete mystery."

  "She is--and yet do you not find her far more beautiful than in the olddays? I do."

  "Perhaps her beauty is fatal--like that of so many women," I sighed."The source of many a woman's unhappiness is to be found in her face."

  "Last night tragedy was written deeply upon hers," my companion said, ina low, sympathetic voice. "I wonder what has occurred?"

  I, too, wondered. Her firm refusal to allow me to kiss her upon thelips showed her either to be in deadly fear of the jealousy of another;or that sh
e was true to the vow she had given, even though she stillloved me. Yet who could be this person whom she had undoubtedly metafter we had parted? Why had he attacked her? Why had she fled againso quickly? Was she in fear of some one who was still lurking in thevicinity? A sense of deadly chilliness stole over me.

  The whole affair was, indeed, a mystery, yet not so utterly bewilderingas were certain of the events which followed--events which were sostrange and startling that they formed a problem that was for so longbeyond solution.

  Being so passionately devoted to Ella I determined to follow her, demandan explanation of the attack upon her and seek to discover the identityof her unknown lover--the man whom she had admitted to me she was tomarry under compulsion.

  I had risen from