“Yes.”
“Annabel’s real reason for wishing to leave Paris, the real reason she married Sir John Ferringhall, was because of a very foolish thing which she did. It was—in connection with this man Hill. He personated over there a millionaire named Meysey Hill, and it seems that he induced Annabel to go through some sort of marriage with him at the Embassy.”
“Where?” Courtlaw asked quickly.
“In Paris.”
Courtlaw seemed about to say something. He changed his mind however, and simply motioned to her to proceed.
“Then there was a motor accident only an hour or so after this ceremony, and Hill was reported to be killed. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John. Now you can understand why I have been obliged to——”
“Yes, yes, I understand that,” Courtlaw interrupted. “But about last night.”
“Annabel knew where I lived,” Anna continued slowly. “She has been to my flat before. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor.”
“Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before. Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. It is not for myself I fear. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell.”